Possession
by PrincessJosephine
Summary: As her mother's health begins to deteriorate, Margaret is forced to reconsider her options. But at what cost?
1. Chapter 1

_Yes I'm back with an idea that has been niggling at me since I finished the last story. I promise I do have a life outside of writing fan-fiction. But it is hard to resist... Anyway, I don't own these characters but adore them as I do Margaret's Gaskell's books. As with my previous stories, I will from time to time borrow some of her incredible prose and display it in italics to distinguish it from my own sorry efforts. Your feedback will be appreciated as I am not entirely sure where I am headed with this one yet! PJ_

* * *

'Papa, what is the matter?'

Margaret sat down beside her Father, immediately concerned to find him slouched over the kitchen table at this late hour.

'Oh Margaret, I don't know what to do?'

Margaret put her arm about her father's shoulder, wondering at what aggrieved him so terribly this evening. It was true that Richard Hale had considerable cause for worry. His wife, his love, was dying - and there was very little he could do about it. But Margaret had never seen her father so broken.

'Papa, please tell me what is troubling you. Mamma is feeling much better of late. The treatment that Dr Donaldson is giving seems to be helping to ease her discomfort.'

Mr Hale looked at Margaret with an even more pained expression. He rose to his feet with his hand on his forehead. Turning his back to Margaret, he breathed in deeply before continuing. 'Margaret, that is just it. ' He sat down again, this time putting his head in his hands, his elbows leaning on his knees. 'The treatment is helping..' When Mr Hale looked up he had tears in his eyes. 'Margaret, I have failed you, I have failed your mother. I dragged you up here to Milton where neither of you wanted to come…'

Margaret sat looking at her father with compassion. He was clearly in distress. 'Papa, you are not making any sense. Please tell me precisely what is bothering you so.'

Mr Hale wiped his eyes and hesitated before handing over a sheet of paper to Margaret. 'I received a bill from Dr Donaldson for the opiate treatments that your mother is being given.'

Margaret looked at the numbers on the page in her hands. Her stomach dropped. She felt foolish that she had not even considered the cost of sending for Dr Donaldson. Margaret's only thoughts had been to use any means at her disposal to save her mother, or at the very least, ease her suffering.

'Oh Papa. I had no idea.' Margaret shook her head and returned the bill to her Father. She remained silent for a moment, pondering their alternatives. 'Is there no arrangement we can come to with Dr Donaldson to pay back the debt over time?'

Mr Hale shook his head. 'No, I'm afraid not my dear. Dr Donaldson says he is happy for us to pay his bill at a later date, but that the medicine must be paid for straight away - or the apothecary will not provide it to us in future.' Mr Hale sat back, a dazed look in his eye. 'If I still had my income from the parsonage and the security of a home provided by the church we may have had some hope of paying for this. But here? Now? I barely have enough income to cover our basic daily provisions. '

Margaret was no stranger to her family's financial woes. She understood, and in fact had decided upon the economies that had to be made as a result of her father leaving the church and their relocation to Milton. But deep down Margaret had always secretly thought, or perhaps hoped, that her parents had some savings that they could call upon in their hour of need. It was becoming more obvious to Margaret that this was not the case.

'Father, what if you were to write to Aunt Shaw? Surely she will pay for the treatment. She has as much reason as anyone. I must believe she would want to give her sister comfort in her…' Margaret stopped short of saying 'dying days' to her father – although she was sure he understood her meaning.

Mr Hale shook his head, his jaw set. 'Absolutely not, Margaret. I forbid you to write to that woman on my behalf!'

'Why, Papa? I understand that things have never been what one would describe as congenial between you. But surely you will not let your pride stand in the way of Mamma's health?' Margaret was disturbed by her father's stubbornness at such a time.

'Congenial! Ha! The Beresfords never wanted me to marry your mother. Your mother doesn't think I know but of course I do. They might have stopped short of saying I was not good enough for her, but I could tell how they felt. To write to your Aunt now and beg her assistance would only confirm what she has always suspected - that I was never worthy of your mother.'

Margaret had never witnessed her father in so dark a mood. It sometimes surprised her that a man who spent most of his adult life listening to and advising others regarding their relations and problems, should be so inept at managing his own. Margaret recalled at that moment how her father, when too afraid to broach the topic of moving to Milton with his wife, had delegated the task to Margaret. Margaret began to feel the burden of trying to find a solution for her father once more.

'Perhaps I could find work…as a Governess I think?'

Mr Hale's expression softened as he looked at his daughter affectionately. 'It is a good thought my dear, but I am afraid your income would still not be enough. And besides, there are unlikely to be many households in Milton who could afford such a luxury as a Governess. And if they could, they would want you to live-in. For you to leave your parents' house, to toil in another's. … Well it would surely claim your mother's life before this wretched disease can. No Margaret, do not even think of it.'

Mr Hale reached out to take his daughter's hand. 'I'm sorry my dear. I should not have worried you. It is late and I am tired. Let us sleep on it and I am sure we shall have a new perspective tomorrow. Let us not rush into rash decisions. I shall meditate upon it some more and pray that God will give me courage and wisdom to see the right path.'

Margaret squeezed her father's hand. 'Can I make you some tea Father before I retire?'

'No Margaret. I will just make my way to bed I think. Goodnight my dear.'

Her father leaned over and kissed her cheek, before leaving her to her thoughts.

Extinguishing the candles, Margaret's mind was preoccupied with the dilemma before her. Should she disobey her father and write to her Aunt Shaw? It was incredibly frustrating that he should be prepared to sacrifice his wife's comfort to protect his pride.

As she climbed the stairs to her room, Margaret became even more infuriated by her own powerlessness in the situation. She keenly felt the injustice of not being able to do anything tangible to raise the money needed to pay for her own mother's treatment. Life and circumstance meant she must rely on the generosity of others. And even then her only real means of improving their circumstances would be to reach out to a wealthy benefactor, or by making a fortunate alliance herself within the marriage bed…

Margaret felt a chill invade her spine as the thought entered her head. It occurred to her then that it was entirely within her means to help her mother, or at least it had been yesterday when Mr Thornton made her an offer.

Margaret unconsciously rubbed her slender fingers over the small wound by her temple. She felt a rise of panic well inside her. But to marry him for his money? That contradicted everything she had ever contemplated for herself and her future. She had never seriously entertained making a match for purely prudential considerations. She had only ever imagined herself marrying for love.

It was almost unthinkable. Would she, could she go through with such a plan? Could she find happiness married to a man like Thornton? He was handsome, and he was rich by others standards in Milton – but would that be enough for her to literally sacrifice herself at the altar for her Mother's sake?

And after all she had said and how she behaved yesterday….would Mr Thornton be prepared to take her after she had insulted him?

Father would be pleased with the connection. He was very fond of Mr Thornton.

Margaret splashed her face with cold water as she made her preparations for bed. Father was right, there was no reason to rush into rash decisions tonight. She would consult with him again in the morning and together they would find a solution.

But as Margaret lay in bed, she found it difficult to quash the thoughts of Mr Thornton and the security that he represented. He pervaded her dreams that night. She woke several times flustered and confused. In one she dreamt she lay sleeping in his strong arms and heard him whisper, '_Oh, my Margaret—my Margaret! no one can tell what you are to me! _…. _you are the only woman I ever loved! Oh, Margaret—Margaret!' _

As she woke again, a tumult of feelings that she couldn't define unsettled her. She knew she should be revolted by the idea of marrying a man she didn't love. A man who she was not sure she even liked, and yet…

Margaret covered her head with her pillow and tried desperately to think of something other than the tall dark haired man and his penetrating blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

After such a wakeful night, Margaret slept late, rising only as Dixon entered to draw the curtains.

'Good morning Miss Margaret. You must have needed your sleep. I hope you are not coming down with anything. I wouldn't want the Mistress catching any new ills on top of what she already has.'

Margaret sat up and rubbed her tired eyes. 'No Dixon, I just did not sleep well last night. I am well. I assure you my mother is in no danger from me.'

As Dixon later helped Margaret dress she remarked, 'Mistress looks well this morning. When I left her she was sitting up and sipping tea. And reading her post she was. The potions that Dr Donaldson gave her certainly have worked wonders. She even has colour back in her cheeks.'

Margaret considered Dixon's words and felt a swell of determination. After tossing and turning for much of the early hours, Margaret finally decided that she would write to her Aunt Shaw to ask for assistance – even if it meant risking her father's anger.

'Where is Papa?'

'Last I saw he was in the dining room, eating his breakfast and reading the newspaper.'

'Thank you Dixon, I will be down for breakfast shortly. I would just like to say good morning to my Mother first.'

Satisfied that Miss Margaret was ready for the day, Dixon left to start on the linen.

As Margaret opened the door to her mother's bedroom, she was struck by how bright and alive her mother looked.

'Good morning Mamma. You look well this morning."' Margaret leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek before taking a seat in the wooden dining chair that had kept vigil beside the bed since Mrs Hale fell ill.

Mrs Hale reached out to take Margaret's hand. 'I do feel better today Margaret. My spasms have been quite carried away. In fact I think if I continue to do so well I might dress and sit in the drawing room in time for the afternoon sun to warm me.' Mrs Hale mused, 'At least in this climate there is some benefit to the windows being full west.'

Margaret frowned. 'Just promise me you will not overdo things Mamma. Perhaps I should speak to Dr Donaldson first?'

Mrs Hale reproached her daughter for fussing. 'Please Margaret, permit me a few indulgences. Dixon will see I am all right. She loves me.'

'I love you too Mamma. It's just that I worry about you. I do not want you to do anything that might make your condition worse.'

Mrs Hale reached out and rubbed Margaret's cheek. 'Of course my dear. But you must see that some time out of this room will do my spirit - if not my broken down body – a great deal of good.'

Margaret nodded and kissed her mother's hand. Looking over at the side table she saw this morning's discarded post. 'Who were your letters from this morning?'

'Oh, yes I meant to tell you - I received a letter from your Aunt Shaw.'

Margaret was enthused to hear more. 'What news? I mean, what news does she send of Edith?'

Mrs Hale smiled. 'You know your Aunt Shaw. She rather _enjoys the romance _of Edith's marriage for love – perhaps even more than Edith does I think. She describes your cousin's life in Corfu as all _sunshine and grapes._ It does not surprise me therefore that she has decided to go to Greece for the summer. I suppose she also wants to be there in time for Edith's confinement.'

Margaret did a quick mental calculation in her head and felt relief, 'So Aunt Shaw shouldn't be leaving England then for another month?'

'According to her letter she was leaving at once.'

Margaret felt panic rise up. 'Where is she going? Did she give particular details as to her plans?'

'She just said she intends to visit with some friends of the Admiral in Spain first - but she did not elaborate.' Mrs Hale looked at her daughter quizzically. 'You seem anxious my dear. Are you homesick for Aunt Shaw? I am sure we could arrange for you to go and stay with her for a spell once Edith returns to London. I am sure your father will not object.'

Margaret could not help but detect the suggestion that her mother would no longer be with them to sanction such a visit. Calming herself so as not to alarm her mother she said, 'Of course not Mamma. I am not interested in being anywhere else in the world than right here in Milton with you and Papa.'

Mrs Hale's tone became solemn. 'I see where your thoughts are Margaret.'

Margaret's heart jumped in her chest. It would be unlike her father to discuss his concerns regarding the Apothecary bill so openly with her mother. 'What do you mean Mamma?'

'You are concerned that you may need to contact your Aunt soon – when the time comes. Do not worry yourself with such pointless thoughts my dear. Your Aunt will not be able to help me once I am gone. I am sure you will do your best and that is all anyone can ask of you.' With these words Mrs Hale began to cry.

Margaret lay her head on her mother's breast in an attempt to console her. Instead Mrs Hale broke down even more with long, racking sobs.

'But, _Margaret, if I am to die—if I am one of those appointed to die before many weeks are over—I must see my child first. I cannot think how it must be managed; but I charge you, Margaret, as you yourself hope for comfort in your last illness, bring him to me that I may bless him. Only for five minutes, Margaret. There could be no danger in five minutes. Oh, Margaret, let me see him before I die!'_

_Margaret did not think of anything that might be utterly unreasonable in this speech: we do not look for reason or logic in the passionate entreaties of those who are sick unto death; we are stung with the recollection of a thousand slighted opportunities of fulfilling the wishes of those who will soon pass away from among us: and do they ask us for the future happiness of our lives, we lay it at their feet, and will it away from us. But this wish of Mrs. Hale's was so natural, so just, so right to both parties, that Margaret felt as if, on Frederick's account as well as on her mother's, she ought to overlook all intermediate chances of danger, and pledge herself to do everything in her power for its realisation. The large, pleading, dilated eyes were fixed upon her wistfully, steady in their gaze, though the poor white lips quivered like those of a child. Margaret gently rose up and stood opposite to her frail mother; so that she might gather the secure fulfilment of her wish from the calm steadiness of her daughter's face._

_'Mamma, I will write to-night, and tell Frederick what you say. I am as sure that he will come directly to us, as I am sure of my life.'_

'Thank you my darling Margaret. You are better to me than I deserve.'

'But I will need to discuss it with Papa – I need to ask him _how best to do it.'_

Mrs Hale, though frail as she was, grabbed Margaret's forearm as if to prevent her from taking such an action. 'No Margaret. You must do this without your father's knowledge. If you mention your plan he will surely try to stop you out of fear for Frederick.' Mrs Hale's began to weep again. 'Please do not delay, do not deny me this last wish!'

_'Be easy, mamma, you shall see him as far as anything earthly can be promised.'_

Mrs Hale released Margaret's arm and fell back on to the pillow. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes. She did not happen to notice the strain and worry that occupied Margaret's lovely face.

Margaret her mother's request was beyond her own will to refuse. She would do whatever was in her power to fulfill her promise to her mother. Whatever it took.

'I will leave you now Mamma and go down for breakfast. Can I bring you anything back?'

'No,my dear. I will rest now and think of Frederick.' Opening her eyes again to wipe away the last vestiges of her tears, she pleaded to Margaret in an almost childlike way, 'You will write to him today?'

'Yes Mamma.'

With her mother seemingly calmed, Margaret left the small room and made her way down the stairs. She was quite lost in her own thoughts when she entered the dining room and was surprised to find her father still sitting at the breakfast table.

'Good morning my pretty maid. Did you sleep well? You are up late this morning?'

'Yes Papa, although I have just come from sitting with my mother. Can I refresh your tea Papa?'

'Yes my dear, thank you. How is your mother?'

Margaret finished pouring their tea before sitting down and reaching for some of Dixon's freshly baked bread. 'She is without pain still, and wishes to come down to the drawing room this afternoon. I have tried to persuade her to stay in bed and rest.'

'Let her do as she wishes my dear. Dixon will take care of her.'

'That is exactly what she said.' Margaret hated that her own authority and influence in her mother's life should be usurped by Dixon. Sometimes it seemed to forgotten that Dixon was just a servant in their house.

Spreading her bread with jam and cutting it into quarters, Margaret wondered at how to broach the topic of last night. 'Papa?'

'Mmm yes, my dear?'

'Mamma had a letter from Aunt Shaw today. It says that she has sailed for the continent. But she has not given any particulars as to her whereabouts – other than to say that she will be with Edith in 6 weeks time.'

Mr Hale looked up from his newspaper as if waiting for her to continue.

Margaret swallowed and braced herself. 'I confess I had rather hoped to write to her and beg her assistance…'

Mr Hale shifted in his seat. 'Margaret you know how I feel about that. I cannot believe you would knowingly defy me in such a manner.'

'Papa, you must see that Aunt Shaw is our only hope for paying for Mamma's treatment. Treatment which may prolong her life?'

Mr Hale sat silent looking into his tea cup.

'I think it is a mute point now anyway. Even if we were to try and trace Aunt Shaw's movements – it could take weeks to find her – and I am not sure we have the luxury of time.' Margaret's face reflected her despair.

Mr Hale could not seem to meet his daughter's eyes. He nodded solemnly. 'We have so few possessions after our move to Milton, I don't suppose there is anything we could auction to raise the money?'

Margaret looked around at their sparse furniture. What was left was probably not fit to be sold. Their lack of valuable possessions was probably a godsend given the size and state of their house. In hindsight Margaret thought they were quite lucky to have secured this lease. There were far worse parts of town. Mr Bell's advice to her father had been sound.

Just then a marvelous thought occurred to her. 'What about my Godfather – Mr Bell. I know he helped you find work and get settled in Milton. I think he would be willing to lend us the money?' Margaret wondered why she had not thought of him before.

Mr Hale looked up from his daze. 'Do you think Margaret?' Mr Hale sounded doubtful. 'I mean do you think it is right for me to ask more of a friend who has already done so much for us?'

'Oh Father, it is a mark of your respectability and honor that you should not want to burden a friend. But if Mr Bell is the man that I suspect he is…Well what if the position was reversed? Would you not do this for him?'

Mr Hale paused to think before finally sighing in resignation. 'You're right of course Margaret. I will write to him today. I only hope I can reach him. Like your Aunt he travels a good deal at this time of year – although mostly for business.' Mr Hale, with hope returning to his eyes then said, 'The other person I was considering asking was Mr Thornton.'

Margaret felt heat rush to her face. Her father clearly counted Mr Thornton amongst his friends. He could not know about her refusal of Mr Thornton's marriage proposal: or of the vehement manner with which she delivered it. Margaret doubted Mr Thornton would even consider assisting her family after that. 'But we hardly know him, Papa. No I think it is far better that we seek help from those with whom we have closer bonds. I think writing to Mr Bell is the right course.' Margaret chewed her lip and began thinking about when they might receive a response from Mr Bell. 'How long can we afford to wait Papa? How long will this supply of opiates from the Apothecary last?'

Mr Hale shrugged. 'A week? Dr Donaldson is not sure. There is one more dose in the current batch. We can only wait to see how long it is until she descends into fever and restlessness.'

Margaret felt frightened – she had not realised that the situation was so dire and so urgent. Her father's idleness and uncertainty began to anger her. She needed him to be strong and resolute. She needed him to tell her that he would take care of them. All her life she had accepted and overlooked his weaknesses out of loyalty and respect. Today they almost repulsed her.

'Do you think perhaps then you should go to Oxford tomorrow to see Mr Bell in person?' Margaret urged. She began to clear the dishes lest her father notice her growing frustration.

'I suppose I could. If you think that would be best?'

'Yes father. I do think that is best. You could return on the evening train. I can go with you if you like?'

'No Margaret. I think it best you stay with your Mother. You give her great comfort, you know.'

'Thank you Papa. I try.' Margaret, stood to head to the kitchen.

'What about you my dear? What are you going to do today?'

Margaret's lip threatened to tremble at the thought of writing to Frederick. She bit hard before saying, 'Nothing of consequence Papa. I have some letters to write, and then I think I shall visit Bessie if Mamma does not need me.'

Mr Hale smiled at his daughter. 'Good, good. Very well.'

Margaret carried the dishes towards the kitchen, fear and worry still pressing down heavily on her young heart.


	3. Chapter 3

_It took up both his hands to carry it; and he had to pass through the busiest part of the town for feminine shopping. Many a young lady of his acquaintance turned to look after him, and thought it strange to see him occupied just like a porter or an errand-boy._

_He was thinking, 'I will not be daunted from doing as I choose by the thought of her. I like to take this fruit to the poor mother, and it is simply right that I should. She shall never scorn me out of doing what I please. A pretty joke, indeed, if, for fear of a haughty girl, I failed in doing a kindness to a man I liked. I do it for Mr. Hale; I do it in defiance of her.'_

Yet for all his bravado, John felt nervous and somewhat foolish for returning to Crampton. Perhaps it was unwise to go back to the home of the person who had dashed all your hopes? But the closer he got to the tiny house, the less wise he became, recalling images of her brilliant eyes, her delicate features...

He was surprised by the physical pain that coursed through his body at the thought of her. He felt bereft as he recollected her arms about his neck, her feminine form against his chest. There had been a transcendent moment of understanding between them he would never forget. Her soulful eyes beseeching him to save himself during the insanity of the riot. Her feelings, raw and unbridled in her expression. He was still in awe of the intensity of that moment.

His mother would be displeased that he should test himself in this way. She had determined to hate the girl who had not accepted her son's affection. But John could not hate Margaret. He could no more hate her than hate himself for loving her. It was a normal and natural thing.

In truth he was grateful for the colour she had bought into his grey days in Milton. To quote Byron "the great art of life is to feel that we exist, even in pain.' John had never fully understood this before. But he now realised that the respectable life he had carved for himself as a magistrate and successful businessman lacked fulfillment. Without love – even a one-sided love - he had been living a shallow existence. And although bountiful in maternal and sisterly affection, it was a life of loneliness, want of that companionship that a man sought in a woman.

With one haughty glance from the spirited girl from the south he had witnessed love's sublime power and he would never be the same. His father's death had taught him that pain and love were inseparable. Where there is one, there is inevitably the other. But he would never wish to trade the vitality that he felt in his love for Margaret for the deadness of life before her.

As John reached Crampton it was just on twilight. He climbed the stairs _two at a time_, a part of him unable to contain his hopeless excitement at the thought of seeing her again. He had no notion of how he would conduct himself in her company. He had not thought it through. He could almost hear his mother chastising him, blaming his reckless, out of character behaviour on his irrational affliction for the girl. It was true that John was rarely one to act rashly. His every move was executed with a good deal of forethought. Every risk carefully calculated. Yet here he was on an impulsive errand, led entirely by his heart rather than his head.

As he was about to knock he wondered whether she would be home. Would she avoid his company and leave him to be received by her father? Or would she come and sit with them, resuming the rhythm of their previous encounters where she would tolerate him with her lofty disdain?

With these thoughts driving his heart to an erratic thudding, he was stunned as the door quickly opened and a distressed Miss Hale, evidently in a rush, was preparing to leave the house. She had a shawl about her shoulders, ready to face the night air.

John put the basket he was carrying down on the step. 'Miss Hale, I, ah…'

He was caught off guard by the confusion in her face, the tears pricking at her eyes. How frightened and small she appeared in her present state.

'Mr Thornton, my father is not home at present. I'm sorry but I must leave without delay. Perhaps you could call again tomorrow?'

Margaret was about to push past John, when he reached out to take hold of her arm. The mere site of her exhilarated him. Releasing her arm again John said in a gentle tone, 'Of course I would not wish to delay you Miss Hale, but please..I can see that you are distressed..it will be dark soon..'

Margaret looked up at him, the tears now falling from her eyes. 'Sir, I must fetch Dr Donaldson for my mother..' her voice faltered. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to recover her composure.

'Stay here Miss Hale. I will fetch Dr Donaldson. Go. Be with your mother. I will return presently.' John felt a strong desire to be useful in her time of need. He just hoped she would not let her pride prevent her from accepting his assistance.

Without giving her the opportunity to object, John dashed away. He looked back momentarily and saw the exquisite young beauty still standing on the step, staring after him.

On he ran, not caring about the stares of townspeople. Not caring about what they might think, or who might stop his mother in the street to remark on her son's strange behaviour. He ran in the direction of the doctor, his only thought of Margaret and how she must be suffering. Knowing her dear mother would soon pass. Having to watch her decline with only prayers and faith for comfort.

As he arrived at the neat property where the doctor resided, John was relieved to find light glowing in the window. It would seem that luck was on his side this evening. He should hate to have returned to Crampton empty handed.

John knocked on the door painted peacock blue. After waiting only a few seconds, a tiny bespectacled lady with white hair answered the door.

'Good evening. My name is John Thornton. Would the doctor be in?'

The housekeeper's face lit up with her excitement. 'Oh, I know who you are sir! Please come in and sit down. I will fetch the doctor.'

John shook his head. 'I'm afraid there is no time for that now madam. I must beg the doctor accompany me to relieve the suffering of a lady at Crampton.'

Just then John heard some footsteps walking up the hall. 'Mr Thornton, what brings you here this evening?'

The housekeeper bowed her head before leaving the gentlemen to talk. 'Mrs Hale has taken a turn for the worst causing her daughter great distress. Can I trouble you to come with me now Doctor to see to her?'

The doctor nodded and disappeared momentarily to fetch his bag and coat.

The two men walked briskly through the darkening laneways. To passers by they were an odd pairing. One man very tall and in the prime of his youth. The other short, stout and weathered with age.

'How is it that you came to be at my door tonight Mr Thornton?' asked the doctor.

Mr Thornton chose his words carefully. 'I went to Crampton this evening to call upon Mr Hale. As I arrived, Miss Hale, Mr Hale's daughter, was just leaving the house on her way to fetch you. I offered to come in her place.'

'I see,' said Dr Donaldson. 'It is a sad case I'm afraid. There is very little I can do for her after tonight unless their circumstances change.'

John gave Dr Donaldson a side-glance, sensing there was something not being said. 'I do not mean to be impertinent sir, but what do you mean "after tonight"? What circumstances do you refer to?'

Dr Donaldson looked uncomfortable as he spoke. 'Mr Hale is not a man of good fortune. I am sure that I am not telling you anything you do not already know. Mr Hale leads me to understand that you have made many undertakings to help his family settle into Milton?'

'Yes, I suppose so. Go on..'

'The treatment I have been giving to Mrs Hale is quite expensive. It is relatively new and not widely available. The Apothecary refuses to supply any further opiates until his bill is paid in full. I have in my bag the last dose of the current supply.'

'So you are saying that Mr Hale is unable to pay for any further treatment for his wife?' John knew that the family had very little money. But he had not realised that their position was so reduced as to not have funds for essentials such as this.

'That is exactly what I am saying. Mr Hale is broken up about it of course, and I feel his pain. My time I am free to give away, but my pockets are not deep enough to pay…'

John could tell Dr Donaldson wished there was more he could do. 'No of course not Doctor. Nor should you be expected to cover the costs. You are doing as much as anyone could ask at such a time – I am sure.' Without a moment's hesitation John said, 'I would like to help – anything they need, please make sure that it is made available to Mrs Hale. Send the bills directly to me at Marlborough Mill.'

If John surprised Dr Donaldson with his offer, he did not show it. 'Do you think Mr Hale will accept your charity? The Hales are proud people.'

John smiled to himself. He was sure that Mr Hale, for the benefit of his wife, could be easily persuaded. He was not so sure that his daughter would swallow this bitter pill so readily. 'I would be obliged if you would not reveal that I am paying for the treatment – if it can be helped.'

The doctor seemed to understand. 'I will do my best to keep your secret Mr Thornton.'

'_You will tell me, if there is anything I can do, I'm sure, replied Mr. Thornton. 'I rely upon you.'_

Dr Donaldson chortled. _'Oh! never fear! I'll not spare your purse,—I know it's deep enough. I wish you'd give me carte-blanche for all my patients, and all their wants.' _


	4. Chapter 4

Margaret opened the front door almost as soon as she heard the knock. 'Doctor, thank you so much for coming. My mother has taken a turn for the worse again I fear. She is in great pain and has a fever.' Margaret hesitated, looking outside before she closed the front door behind the kindly physician. 'Where is Mr Thornton?'

'He thought it best, in the circumstances, to go home.' The doctor motioned towards the stairs. 'Your mother is upstairs in her bedroom I presume?'

Appearing bewildered Margaret said, 'Yes doctor, yes we must hurry, she is in terrible pain.'

Margaret followed Dr Donaldson up to her mother's room. Dixon was sitting beside the patient, wiping her brow and making gentle cossetting noises like a mother trying to sooth her baby. 'The doctor is here now ma'am – he will make you feel much better. I will leave you now, but I won't be far. I promise.' As the matronly lady stood up she wiped her own tears away before moving to make way for the doctor.

Margaret reached out to hold Dixon's hand momentarily trying to give comfort where she could. Both ladies watched on as the doctor felt Mrs Hale's pulse and after checking her for fever, administered the last of the opiates.

'Mrs Hale,' the doctor spoke loudly as if trying to rouse the lady from the delirium she had slipped into. 'Mrs Hale, you will feel better soon. Try to sleep once the elixir takes effect.'

The doctor turned around, and nodded to Margaret to signify that he had done all he could tonight. Margaret once again accompanied him back down the stairs.

'I will come again tomorrow morning to check on your mother before I begin my rounds. Your father is not home?' Dr Donaldson looked into the dining room as he passed in case the gentleman of the house had arrived whilst they were upstairs.

'Papa had to go to town on urgent business today Dr Donaldson. I expect him later this evening. I know he wishes to speak with you regarding payment for Mamma's treatment.' Margaret did her best to stay composed.

'Yes I am quite anxious to speak to him about the very same topic.' A small smile twitched at Dr Donaldson's lips. 'Well, good night Miss Hale. I shall see you in the morning.' Before he walked away the doctor turned thoughtfully and said 'You know, you have a very good friend in Mr Thornton. '

'Indeed we do,' said Margaret, uncertain of the doctor's meaning but finding herself agreeing in complete earnestness.

Margaret closed the door with a heavy heart. Everything now hinged upon her father's success in convincing Mr Bell to pay for the treatment for her mother. Margaret had witnessed her mother in unbearable pain tonight. It was hard enough to watch her die. But to watch her die suffering was its own torture.

As Margaret returned to her parent's room, _there lay her mother, with an unmistakable look on her face. She might be better now; she was sleeping, but Death had signed her for his own, and it was clear that ere long he would return to take possession. _Dixon, the eternally faithful servant had resumed her watch and was sitting by the mistress's side, caressing her cheek, holding her hand.

Margaret had never felt so exhausted. She was physically and mentally wearied from the ordeals of the last few days. She felt a desperate urge to cry. To lie down and cry until she could cry no more. But she knew she needed to stay strong – for everyone's sake.

Margaret left her mother in Dixon's care and went down to the little kitchen to boil some water for tea and wait for her father's return.

* * *

Later as Margaret was sitting reading in the front room, she heard the door open and close. "Papa is that you?'

She stood to greet him, waiting for him to first hang his coat and hat. As he faced her Margaret could tell that the news was not good. Mr Hale sat down in his chair, slumping like a man defeated.

Margaret went to kneel by her father. 'Papa?'

Mr Hale shook his head.

Margaret felt cold. 'Mr Bell will not lend you the money?'

Again Mr Hale shook his head. 'No, it was a wasted trip I feel. Mr Bell was not there. His manservant said that he has gone north on business and will not return for at least a fortnight.'

'Oh Papa.'

'How was your mother today Margaret? Is she resting comfortably.'

Margaret's lip trembled as she relayed the events of earlier this evening. She stopped short of telling her father how frightened she felt by the severity of her mother's turn.

Looking at her father, Margaret thought how old he looked tonight. 'Papa you look tired. Shall I make you some tea?'

Mr Hale petted his beautiful daughters head. 'No, my dear. I am weary. I think I will retire. '

Margaret bit her lip. 'Papa, Dr Donaldson says he will come in the morning before his rounds. He wants to discuss the payment for Mother's treatment.'

Her father exhaled. 'Yes, we cannot avoid that topic I am afraid.' Mr Hale was contemplative for a moment before saying reluctantly, 'Margaret, I think I will go and see Mr Thornton tomorrow.' He held up his hand as Margaret motioned to speak. 'I know you do not think it sensible, but my dear there is nothing else to be done.'

Margaret looked sympathetically at her father. 'Papa, you misunderstand me. I was not going to stop you. I was merely going to offer to go to Mr Thornton in your place.'

Mr Hale looked quizzically at her. 'That is unexpected Margaret. Why would you do that?'

Margaret felt uncomfortable by her father's scrutiny and laughingly said 'Call it women's intuition. I don't know Father. Maybe it's just…Perhaps Mr Thornton may be more sympathetic to a woman?'

Mr Hale pulled a dubious face and said, 'Let's discuss it again in the morning my child.' Easing himself out of his chair stiffly, he kissed Margaret on the cheek before shuffling from the room.

Margaret found it close to impossible to sleep that night. Nothing could erase the thoughts of what must be done. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest and her body felt damp with perspiration as she tossed and turned.

Eventually in the early hours Margaret gave up her battle, dressed and went to the kitchen to light a fire and make herself some tea. The nerves in her stomach would not tolerate food so she sat and sipped the hot liquid staring into the flames until the first light of dawn.

Writing a quick note for her father, Margaret let herself out of the tiny house and joined the few strangers already going about their business for the day. The market people were busy setting up their wares. Margaret's nose wrinkled at the pungent smell of fresh horse manure intermingled with the salty stench of freshly slaughtered pigs piled on top of one another ready to be butchered. Reaching for her lace handkerchief to cover her nose she admired the blooms the flower lady stacked into her cart. Margaret wished she had enough money in her coin purse to buy some for her mother's bedside.

Margaret ignored the inquisitive looks from the market people. She knew it must seem peculiar to them that a lady such as herself was on the street at this hour. But Margaret knew that she would not be easy until she had completed her errand.

Many people would consider it impolite to call upon a respectable gentleman at this hour. But Margaret sensed that Mr Thornton was an early riser. She had little doubt that he would be toiling away at his business, perhaps even been at his desk for some time already this morning.

Margaret also preferred that this particular call be made without the notice of his many employees. It would likely be another hour until the mill was buzzing with activity. She also prayed that her visit would go unnoticed by his mother and sister if it could at all be helped.

Margaret could feel her hands start to tremble as she approached Marlborough Mill. Her heart was now erratic, so much so that she was starting to feel a little dizzy. Trying to calm herself she took some deep breaths as she rang the bell at the gate that usually sat open during the day. She waited a few moments before trying the bell again. A moment later she heard a familiar deep voice call out, 'Yes, I'm coming.'

Margaret stood tall and once again inhaled deeply. She wanted to run but determined she would not – not now she had come so far. As she heard the rattle of keys, Margaret braced herself. Smoothing out her dress in apprehension, she waited for Mr Thornton's appearance.


	5. Chapter 5

'Miss Hale, what in the world are you doing here at this hour?. Is something the matter..your mother…'

'My mother is resting comfortably this morning thank you Mr Thornton.' Margaret was touched by his thoughtful concern. She looked past him into the yard, relieved to find it still largely deserted at this hour of the day. 'May I have a word with you in private sir?'

Nodding, John stepped aside and allowed Margaret through the gate. He ushered her in the direction of his office.

Margaret could feel her hands trembling again. She had been rehearsing in silence what she wanted to say to Mr Thornton but was finding it difficult to maintain order in her thoughts. She usually prided herself on her intellect and fluency of expression. But this man, with his intimidating size and keen perception had an unnerving ability to discombobulate her. She was both intrigued and fearful of him at the same time.

'After you Miss Hale. Please take a seat.'

Margaret watched as Mr Thornton walked around the desk. She noted a vigor about him this morning. Usually she saw him in the evenings – no doubt after a long day at work. But this morning - revitalised from sleep and freshly attired - he looked sharper and more youthful than she had ever seen him. His blue eyes were even more vivid when not wearied by poor light and long hours behind his desk.

Margaret straightened her back clearing her mind of these distracting thoughts.

'So Miss Hale, what can I do for you?'

'Sir, firstly allow me to thank you for fetching the Doctor yesterday evening. I..that is to say..my family are grateful that you would go out of your way to help us in that manner..' Margaret rang her hands, feeling more awkward by the second.

At first Mr Thornton looked down at his desk as if abashed. Then raising his eyes to meet hers with a wry smile he said, 'your family owes me no thanks. _It was only a natural instinct – any man would have done the same._ _And as a lady_ y_ou should perceive that any man, worthy of the name of man, would come forward _to help the family of a friend he holds in such high esteem as I do your father.'

Margaret felt a wave of heat at her own words being used against her. At first she sat stunned, not sure how to respond. Then as panic took over she rose to leave. 'Mr Thornton, this is folly, I must go before I reduce myself further in your opinion…'

John was at the door before she could reach it. Shaking his head in self-reproof he said, 'Miss Hale, please let me apologise for my poor attempt at humour just now. It was ill-conceived I'm afraid. You have clearly come on an important errand. Please do not let my words divert you from your mission.'

With his tone reassuring, Margaret returned to her seat. Mr Thornton resumed his position across the desk.

'Sir, I have come today to atone for my poor behaviour at Crampton on the day after the riot at the mill.' The day you proposed, she thought to herself.

Mr Thornton held his gaze steady. The tightening of his jaw muscles was the only indication that he understood her meaning.

'As you said yourself, I was unfair and unjust. I understand now that it must have been difficult for you to express yourself so… openly.' Margaret blushed.

Mr Thornton shook his head soberly in disagreement. 'Not at all. I said what I meant to say. My only regret in the whole affair was my misguided hope that you could feel more for me than you do.' There was an awkward silence between them for a moment. 'Miss Hale, forgive me, but can you please tell me the exact reason for your visit? I am sure that you did not come here with the intent of causing yourself further distress by recalling events we would both probably prefer to forget?

'Of course,' Margaret bowed her head feeling worse than before. Rallying every ounce of courage she had she decided to make her intentions plain to Mr Thornton – come what may. 'Sir, I have come here today to ask whether it is still your wish…' Margaret stammered, 'whether you still..well whether you still wish to marry me?' There, it was said.

Mr Thornton sat back in his chair. If he had seemed surprised at the gate, he looked completely astonished now. Stirring himself, he got up and moved around the desk to sit beside Margaret. 'Miss Hale, Margaret, what are you saying?'

'I am saying Mr Thornton, that I would like the chance to reconsider your offer of marriage – if the offer is still open that is?' Margaret looked down at her hands not daring to meet his eyes.

'Margaret,' Mr Thornton said fervently, 'Oh Margaret. Could it be..?' John reached out to take Margaret's hand but she retracted it quickly – as if his touch had scolded her.

John withdrew, his disappointment visible. 'So your feelings have not changed. You despise me today as much as you always have.' He got up and walked to the window to look out. After a moment he said 'What is this really about Miss Hale?'

Margaret felt the tears welling in her eyes. She could not continue the charade further. 'I need to help Mama. ' Margaret's tears were flowing now. 'Her treatments are very expensive. Papa does not have enough money to pay the Apothecary and my Aunt Shaw is away on the continent. We need money now to cover the costs of her medicines. ' Margaret paused. 'If I were to marry a man of means…'

Mr Thornton's disappointment suddenly turned to anger. 'So you would trade yourself? Sell yourself to save your mother?'

Margaret's steeled herself at his accusations. 'I cannot save my mother. But I can and will do whatever it takes to make her last days as comfortable and happy as they can be.'

Mr Thornton stood still, facing out the window for what felt the longest time. 'The irony is not lost on me Miss Hale,' he said finally. 'That you, who proclaimed you were offended by my manner, by my offer, should come here today and insult me in this way. Offering yourself like some sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Expecting me to be tempted.'

'Insult you sir, how so?' Margaret was indignant. 'I have never misled you. It was you who offered me your hand without any assurances of my affections. Would you have been more content if I had accepted in the first instance before revealing my true feelings?'

John looked at Margaret in bewilderment - searching for the right words. 'Am I not your father's friend?' He paused to contain his emotion. 'For you to think that the only way to obtain my help was to give yourself to me… Did it never occur to you to just ask? Do you think so little of me that you would believe that I would not help without some kind of 'payment' in return?'

Margaret sat in silence, staring ahead of her. There was a terrible truth in his words. She had never felt more young and naïve. She had misjudged him. And he had seen through her.

'Miss Hale, I may not exactly be what you consider a gentleman, but your actions today are not those of a lady.' John delivered his words with clear intent to wound.

His aim was precise. Margaret stood, her only option to retreat. 'I am truly sorry sir; it was not my intention to upset or insult you. I was merely trying to take care of my family. Please accept my regrets. I will not importune you any further with my presence.'

Margaret walked to the door. Stopping short, her injured pride compelled her to turn and add, 'Perhaps I have acted with impropriety. And perhaps it was wrong of me to do what I did today, motivated as I was by my family's reduced circumstances.'

'But?' Mr Thornton's tone was still harsh.

'But, there is a part of me that feels that an alliance between us would have been successful. I know you are a good man. And whilst I do not pretend to care for you in the way you desire, I also do not dislike you as much as you think I do Mr Thornton.' Margaret half smiled to herself. 'My father thinks so highly of you - I know it would have made him happy to see us married.'

John walked to the door and opened it for her. Standing close, looking down at her he half whispered. 'Would it have made you happy Margaret?'

With a shrug of her shoulders Margaret said earnestly, 'I guess we shall never know.' Turning on her heel she walked out of the office.


	6. Chapter 6

Margaret's feelings, as she fled from the mill, could scarcely be defined. Shame, horror, disappointment, all plagued her.

Margaret tried desperately to call to mind the convictions that had led to her arrival at Marlborough Mill this morning. Had she truly expected him to renew his offer? Did she really believe that by simply retracting her vigorous rejection of him that day at Crampton, that Mr Thornton would fall at her feet?

With shame and mortification Margaret was forced to allow that she had been confident he would.

Yet now as she recalled his severe words: how hurt and affronted he had been by her presumptions; she was aghast at her own arrogance and immaturity. She had cast Mr Thornton as the villain of the story only to be revealed as the fiend herself.

'…your actions today are not those of a lady.' Margaret would never forget his words. Their truth was what injured her the most. In her desperation to save her mother Margaret had forgotten herself and behaved abominably toward Mr Thornton. She could see that now. Indeed by rejecting her, Mr Thornton had most likely saved her from actions she would have regretted for the rest of her life.

Hadn't he?

Pondering on this last point, Margaret was surprised by her confessions today. To have declared to Mr Thornton so candidly something that she had not yet admitted to herself, was out of character. Yet she knew she had been earnest in her words to him. She did believe – with as much impartiality as the situation would allow her - that an alliance between them could have proved successful. Whilst Margaret would of course prefer to marry for love, she did not rule out that affection may have developed over time.

Her father had always told her that a mark of a man was his actions, not his words. Margaret half smiled to herself. Mr Thornton, whilst not always eloquent, had exhibited integrity and honour. Even his behaviour today must be counted in his favour. He was a man of principle. And though Margaret did not always agree with his opinions, she admired the steadiness of his character. He was someone people looked up to and admired. He was someone whose good opinion mattered - even to her she realised.

Oh what a lesson she had learnt - and too late! How was she to tell her father that she had returned home empty handed? And more importantly how did she own up to her failure to gain Mr Thornton's assistance without her father thinking ill of him?

Margaret walked quickly, desiring yet dreading the sanctuary of her parent's home. Making her way through the crowded street, now bustling with workers making their way to factories and shops, Margaret gasped when a hand reached out to touch her arm.

'Miss Margaret!'

Margaret roused herself from her thoughts to focus on the friendly face in front of her. 'Nicholas. Hello.'

'Are you all right Miss Margaret? You're as pale as a sheet? Are you unwell?'

Margaret attempted to smile at her friend but her heart wasn't quite in it. 'Yes I am well Nicholas. My mind was just a long way away just now.'

'I could see Miss.' Nicholas smiled kindly. 'We haven't seen much of you lately? Bess is eager for your company.'

Margaret gathered herself. 'Yes, I'm sorry Nicholas. My mother, you see, has been terribly ill. I am just heading back home to her after running some errands.' Margaret considered him for a moment and then added 'I understand the strike is at an end…_have you found new work_?'

Nicholas shook his head. 'No Miss.

_You'll get work, shan't you?' asked Margaret. 'You're a famous workman, are not you?'_

_'Hamper'll let me work at his mill, when he cuts off his right hand —not before, and not after,' said Nicholas, quietly. _And as for the others, let's just say that_ '..good words is scarce, and bad words is plentiful._'

Margaret looked on with sympathy.

'No one will touch me Miss. I am off to try at Watson's today. But it is a lost cause I think. I am sick of Milton and Milton is sick of me. If Bess were stronger I would consider taking the girls south before the winter.'

_'You must not go to the South,' said Margaret, 'for all that. You could not stand it. You would have to be out all weathers. It would kill you with rheumatism. The mere bodily work at your time of life would break you down. The fare is far different to what you have been accustomed to.'_

Then Margaret added, 'Higgins, have you been to Marlborough Mill to ask for work?'

_'Thornton's?' asked he. 'Ay, I've been at Thornton's.' 'And what did he say?' 'Such a chap as me is not like to see the measter. Th' o'erlooker bid me go and be d—d._

_' 'But I wish you had seen Mr. Thornton,' repeated Margaret. 'Would you go again—it's a good deal to ask, I know—but would you go to-morrow and try him? I should be so glad if you would_. He is fair and just I think.

Margaret looked at Higgins for his answer. _Those grave soft eyes of hers were difficult to resist. He gave a great sigh. 'It would tax my pride above a bit; if it were for mysel', I could stand a deal o' clemming first; I'd sooner knock him down than ask a favour from him. I'd a deal sooner be flogged mysel'; but yo're not a common wench, axing yo'r pardon, nor yet have yo' common ways about yo'. I'll e'en make a wry face, and go at it to-morrow._

Well I better be getting along.' Nicholas paused. 'Miss, I don't mean to upset you more – what with your Mother and all being as ill as she is – but I 'm not sure how long Bess has for the world. Could you see your way to stopping in to see her this morning? She can barely raise her head from the pillow, so weak is she. A visit from you would be sure to up her spirits.'

'Oh Nicholas, I'm not sure I can…'

'Please Miss, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't so important to her. Please give her a few minutes of your time this morning.'

Margaret silently reproached herself for her own selfishness and nodded. 'Of course Nicholas. I will go there directly.'

'Thank you Miss. You are a true lady.' He tipped his hat and continued on his way, not knowing how those words pained her.

* * *

As Margaret entered the dank little house in Frances Street she was not surprised to find Bessy lying languid in the bed. Her pallor reminded Margaret of her mother. A familiar sadness overcame her and Margaret felt the prick of tears. She was determined not to let Bessy see her pity, and hurriedly wiped them away.

Bessie gave a small smile, almost as if she thought the effort of a full one would have finished her off. Slowly and in a faint whisper the girl spoke, 'You're finally here Miss. I thought I would never see you again.'

Margaret walked over to Bessie's bedside and sat beside her. Collecting the girl's cold hand in her own, Margaret said soothingly, 'I am sorry Bessy. My mother has been quite unwell. But I am here now, how should we spend out time together?'

Bessy glanced over towards the bible by the bed.

Margaret reached over to take it in hand. 'Shall I read to you?'

Bessy nodded, closing her eyes, giving way to the weakness that pervaded her fragile body.

It took all her willpower, but Margaret kept her voice steady as she read to her dying friend.

* * *

As Margaret returned home to Crampton, her father came out of the room he used as a study to greet her. 'Margaret, you are home. I was worried, your note didn't say where you were going?'

Margaret hung her coat and gloves. 'I'm sorry Papa, I went to see my friend Bessy.'

'Oh yes, the girl from Marlborough Mill - with the lung condition?'

'Yes, that is her Papa. She is very unwell I am afraid. I read to her from Revelations - it seemed to give her comfort.' Margaret followed her father into the sitting room. She noticed a steaming hot teapot and poured herself a cup, refreshing her father's at the same time.

'The holy spirit brings comfort even to those who don't believe. He brings hope even where there is none. You have done a good deed my dear.'

Margaret sensed a cheerfulness in her father's countenance that had not been present for some time. 'You seem in good spirits Papa?'

Mr Hale nodded enthusiastically. 'God has provided Margaret. Just when we had almost lost all hope...'

Margaret looked enquiringly at her father. 'What do you mean Papa?'

Leaning in Mr Hale could hardly contain his joy. 'I mean Dr Donaldson advised me this morning that a silent benefactor has agreed to cover the costs for your mother's treatment.'

With a mix of trepidation and relief Margaret prompted her father. 'Silent benefactor Papa – but who? I mean would Dr Donaldson not say to whom we are indebted?'

Shaking his head Mr Hale could not keep himself from beaming. 'No my dear. All he would say was that the person, on finding out about our troubles yesterday, insisted on settling all accounts on our behalf for so long as your Mama.. ah… has need.' Mr Hale frowned momentarily at his closing thought.

Margaret was silenced.

'My dear, you don't look as happy as I expected you to be? But tell me, did you speak with anyone yesterday about our circumstances? Do you have any idea who might have been so generous to us in our time of need?' Mr Hale seeming to interpret Margaret's stillness as solemn gratitude, continued. 'I had thought that Mr Thornton may have been our savior, but there was no way that he could know about our situation, is there Margaret?'

Margaret did not know how to answer, so instead she shook her head dumbly.

'Well perhaps we shall never know. But we will include this mystery angel of the lord in our prayers, shall we not my dear?'

Margaret felt ill. How could she ever face Mr Thornton again?


	7. Chapter 7

'John.' Mrs Thornton paused a moment before saying a little louder, 'John!'

'Sorry Mother, what did you say?'

'I said that Mr Baker's son was killed. Thrown from his horse. Took them a day to find him..' Mrs Thornton shook her head disapprovingly. 'You are somewhere else this evening I think.'

John tried to refocus. 'I'm sorry Mother. I have a lot on my mind at the moment I suppose.'

Mrs Thornton put down her knife and fork to scrutinise her handsome son. His meal remained untouched. 'I won't pretend that I don't know what this is about,' she chided.

John exhaled, awaiting the inevitable virtuous lecture from his mother. He had been kidding himself that the visit from Margaret this morning would go undetected. There was very little that occurred at Marlborough Mill without her notice.

'Her again.'

'Miss Hale, you mean,' John said, correcting his mother. Even though his relationship with Margaret was without an understanding, he still would not tolerate disrespect towards her from his mother.

'It was the servants who told me she was here. The servants! They spied her following you to your office at the crack of dawn,' said Mrs Thornton appalled. 'What on earth did "Miss Hale" want, John? What was so urgent that she could not wait for a more civilised hour to call on a respectable gentleman?'

John chastised himself for not being prepared for her questions. 'She came to..well to thank me for being of service to her family yesterday.'

Mrs Thornton's face remained stern. 'Yes, and how exactly were you "of service"?'

'I went to Crampton to see Mr Hale yesterday. Unfortunately he was in town on business when I got there. Miss Hale answered the door just as she was on her way to fetch Dr Donaldson. Her mother had taken a turn for the worst I'm afraid. I merely offered to go in her place.'

Mrs Thornton appeared skeptical. 'And do you mean to tell me that Miss Hale came all the way here in the middle of the night to thank you for running an errand?'

John did his best to stay calm and replied, 'It was not the middle of the night, Mother. The sun had been up for some time. And yes, that is why she came.'

John considered the steely woman who had been his bedrock during the darkest times. He owed her so much and would do just about anything for her. Anything but give up his dream of Margaret, he thought. 'Mother, I do wish you could show more compassion. Mrs Hale is dying. I think the Hales deserve our understanding at such a time, don't you?'

'But, what was Miss Hale thinking? Gallivanting about town at dawn. She must understand that such actions will likely bring shame and discredit to her and her family. She must be warned against such impropriety!'

'That is exactly my point, Mother. She was not thinking clearly. She is in a state of deep distress at the prospect of losing her mother. She deserves our deepest sympathy and tolerance at present. She needs our friendship.'

Mrs Thornton rolled her eyes and _and gave one of her expressive snorts_ at the idea of Miss Hale needing anyone's sympathy. 'It is still no excuse for her behavior if you ask me.'

John was beginning to show his irritation. 'Mother, why do you object to Miss Hale?'

'How can you not object?' she countered. 'I want to know how you can continue to give your attentions to the girl who rejected you? You are blinded by your feelings for her John.' Mrs Thornton straightened the tablecloth in agitation. 'A foolish son is indeed a grief to his mother..' she said under her breath.

John left the dinner table to pour himself a drink. 'Perhaps I am being foolish Mother. But it is my heart and my life at stake here – not yours. Please do not hate her for making choices she is free to make. And please do not wish upon me a wife who agrees to marry me just because I am an eligible prospect. If ever a woman does agree to marry me, I want her to do it because she loves me.'

'You are being a sentimental fool, John. Romantic love is a whimsy. A good marriage, a strong marriage is a union based on respect and living up to your mutual obligations.'

John mused at his eternally practical mother. 'But should it follow that you cannot have one without the other?'

'That has been my experience,' muttered Mrs Thornton, looking away from John.

John moved to sit beside his mother. 'I am a grown man. I know you care about me, but you must trust me to make my own decision on the matter. ' Hesitating for a moment he added, 'You know, Miss Hale is not unlike you in many ways.'

Mrs Thornton looked aghast.

'I am perfectly serious Mother.'

'How so? How could that be?'

Mr Thornton took his mother's hand. 'Like you she is strong and bears her responsibilities to her family without complaint – regardless of how much she may be hurting. She is fiercely proud, but not vain like many other girls we know. She has a keenness of mind and a sharpness of tongue that I both admire and resent, for I fear she could best me in any argument if we were put to the test.' John smiled. 'Yes, she reminds me of you in many ways.'

'Perhaps. But you cannot say that we behave alike,' said Mrs Thornton in a sulk. 'Her and her mother they act like they are such fine ladies - with airs and graces - when they barely have two shillings to rub together.'

John sat back in his chair. 'Miss Hale and her mother spent many years in London. They have moved in very different circles. It is only natural that this experience will have affected their manners and attitudes. It is hardly fair to criticize them for their gentility is it?'

Mrs Thornton was not ready to concede. 'I still say you are blind to her John. You make her sound like an angel. But I see her flaws. I only pray to God one day that your eyes are open to them too.'

'On the contrary, I am very aware of her faults. She can be opinionated and far too quick to judge people and situations. She is stubborn and frank – sometimes to a fault. And when it comes to her family she is weak. She will sacrifice her own needs to put them first.' John frowned, 'Indeed her devotion to her family clouds her judgment at times.'

'How you sound like you know her John,' said Mrs Thornton cynically. 'Well, you may sketch our likenesses all you like, but there is one material difference between Miss Hale and I that you seem to be forgetting.'

John raised his eyebrows in expectation of her response.

'Whilst I love you unconditionally with every fiber of my being - _she_ does not.' Mrs Thornton looked smug.

'Thank you for reminding me Mother.' John got out of his seat to refresh his drink.

Seeing she had pained her son, Mrs Thornton softened her tone. 'Surely you do not still hold hope of marrying the girl?'

John strolled with his drink over to the mantle piece over the fireplace. Resting his foot on a piece of firewood, he reached out to touch the frame holding a likeness of his father. 'I have not lost hope Mother' he said softly before turning to look at her. 'But I promise I will not make her another offer until I am sure she cares for me as much as I do her.' Throwing back his drink in the awkwardness of the moment John then said, 'Enough of Miss Hale. Where did you say Fanny was tonight?'

'Dining with Mrs Watson, Mr Watson's mother. It looks like Fanny will soon have her own mother-in-law to contend with.'

John chuckled. "I guess that will mean a wedding to pay for too,' he said rubbing his forehead in contemplation. 'Would it be too much for me to hope that Fanny will only want a small affair?'

Mrs Thornton rolled her eyes and smirked a little at the thought of her only daughter economising. 'Yes I am afraid that Fanny has grand plans.'

As John began to stoke the fire, his Mother asked, 'How are the orders?'

'The orders are fine Mother, but we are still behind. It is the labour that is the problem. I am sending some more of the incompetent Irish back home this week. I need the skilled men back…and they want to come back, I think.'

'Not that they deserve their jobs back,' snarled Mrs Thornton. 'Not after the way they behaved on the day of the riot. They should all be locked up and the key thrown away.'

'They were desperate Mother. Desperate people do foolish things.'

'How righteous you have become John. Next you will be forgiving Satan himself for his transgressions.' Shaking her head his mother said 'I cannot forgive so easily.'

'Perhaps you should try Mother. Letting go of bitterness may give way to compassion and kindness and most importantly peace – which we could all do with right now.'

Mrs Thornton didn't look convinced. 'So when the skilled workers go back to work, will things return to the way they were?'

'I don't know. I don't know whether any of it will matter in the end. Whether any of it will be enough to rescue us from…'

'Ruin?' Mrs Thornton offered.

'Let's hope it won't go that far Mother.' John looked at the Grandfather clock and saw that it was about to chime 8 o'clock. 'Well if you will excuse me, I think I will try and do a couple more hours work before I retire. Good night Mother.' Kissing her on the cheek, he strode from the room.

Later, as John sat behind his desk trying to focus on his accounts, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder to the events of the day. To think he could have been announcing his engagement to his mother this evening. John smirked at the reaction he imagined he would have gotten.

John had come close to accepting Margaret. He was ashamed to admit that part of him wanted to secure her hand – even if she did not love him - so that at least she would never belong to anyone else. The other part of him, the one that wanted her to love him as much as he loved her, cried out that such an arrangement could never make him happy.

He was glad in the end that he had come to his senses. He could not have forgiven himself for taking advantage of Margaret when she was in such a miserable state. He wanted love and respect, not gratitude and indebtedness. He had used harsh words at her, but he felt the situation had justified them. It was unlikely that she had spoken to her parents of her scheme before arriving this morning or else he was sure that they would have counseled her against it. Absurdly, the task had been left to him to correct her lapse in propriety.

Margaret had made it clear this morning that she did not love him. But it would seem that the idea of marrying him did not repulse her as it had before. In truth her words this morning had given him hope. Hope that there was still a chance for them. Hope that perhaps her regard for him was growing.

John wondered if Margaret would suspect that he was the one paying for her mother's treatment. How would she react? He hoped she would see his generosity for what it was - a gesture of friendship – and accept it gracefully, without protest. He prayed she would not choose to see it as an attempt to procure her affection.

John threw down his quill, deciding to abandon his work. As he put on his coat he began formulating a plan.

If there was any chance for them, he and Margaret needed an opportunity to start over. To put aside their differences, and try to understand each other better.

There would be sad days ahead for the Hales, and John was determined to be a friend to Margaret and her father. He knew what it was like to bear the burden of grief. He did not want them to go through it alone.

It would be difficult for him to make time due to the difficulties with the mill, but he would make an effort. The more he thought about it the more certain he became about what course of action he should take.

He was resolved to become a more regular companion of the Hales. And he would start by going to Crampton tomorrow.

Extinguishing the lamp in his office, John lit his candle and braced himself for the rush of cold air as he made his way back to the house.


	8. Chapter 8

'John my boy, what a welcome sight it is to have you at our door. Come in, come in.' Mr Hale appeared overjoyed at John's arrival at Crampton.

John entered the small house into the dark passageway. 'I have brought a basket of fruit for Mrs Hale, if you would be so good as to pass on my best wishes.'

'Why don't you come in and give it to her yourself.' Mr Hale ushered John into the tidy sitting room where Mrs Hale was resting on the settee covered in a colourful crocheted blanket.

John walked over to the settee and knelt beside the frail lady. She looked thinner and paler than even he remembered her, her skin almost translucent. Her eyes were dull, virtually without colour except for the red vessels that were pronounced. Her bony fingers shook as she reached up to take the basket. John, noticing how weak Mrs Hale had become, held the basket for her to admire her gift before he placed it on the sideboard.

'Mr Thornton,' said Mrs Hale in a hoarse voice, 'you are so very kind to go out of your way for me.' Bringing her fine lace handkerchief to her face she broke into a hacking cough. John worried that her frail bones would snap in protest. Regaining her poise Mrs Hale continued, 'I am finding it difficult to eat at the moment, but I am sure I shall enjoy your fine fruit.'

John smiled at Mrs Hale. There was resignation in her face. Like she had accepted her fate and now awaited death. Her eyes held an inner solace that both reassured and haunted him.

'I will bring you more if it pleases you?' John sat down across from her.

She managed a small smile before closing her eyes, as if the effort of discourse was too much for her.

Concerned that he was imposing John looked to Mr Hale and said softly, 'I'm sorry, if I have come at an inconvenient time..?'

Mr Hale shook his head. 'No, John, please stay. Maria is easily tired at present. We have suggested that she stay in bed but she prefers to be about the house, to be with us while she can bear it.' Mr Hale looked over at his wife who was now sleeping, her shallow breaths barely audible. 'Dr Donaldson has been a blessing. We must thank your mother for her recommendation. He has given her the very best care and the very latest treatments.'

'I am glad to hear it sir.'

Dixon entered with a fresh pot of tea and tutted at the sight of the mistress asleep on the settee. Refreshing the master's cup she asked, 'When is Miss Margaret expected back sir?'

John had wondered himself at the whereabouts of his tutor's daughter. With an appearance of disinterest, he listened intently for Mr Hale's response.

'She has gone to town to visit with her friend Bessy Higgins. She should be home presently.' Dixon stopped to tuck the blanket about Mrs Hale's sleeping form before shuffling from the room.

Higgins? Wasn't that the name of one of the leaders of the union? A sudden feeling of resentment welled inside John but he did his best to curb it. If he was to accept Margaret into his life, he had to allow for her sympathies – misplaced or otherwise. But to be associated with Higgins? The man whose actions had been the means of injury to his business? Injury that Marlborough Mill may not yet recover from? This would truly be a test of his character.

'The Higgins girl has consumption. Margaret gives her great comfort. I am never more proud of her than when she shows such noble Christian kindness to those less fortunate.'

John nodded. 'Indeed your daughter is a remarkable young woman.'

John excused himself presently, agreeing to return on Tuesday evening for his lesson. After shaking Mr Hale's hand he made off in the direction of the Mill. A few minutes into the short walk to Marlborough Street a young woman, arms about herself and clearly distracted by her own thoughts almost walked into him. It was Margaret. He stopped short, drawing her attention.

As she looked up, John could see her face was wet with tears.

'Miss Hale, what is the matter?'

Margaret turned her face away.

'Come Miss Hale. I wish you to count me as your friend. Please tell me what has you so distraught?'

Margaret wiped her tears, but more replaced them. Her breath started catching as her tears turned into sobs. 'I'm sorry Mr Thornton. My..friend Bessie…passed away this morning…' Saying the words out loud seemed to make Margaret's crying worse.

John offered her his arm. 'Please allow me to escort you the rest of your way home.'

Margaret shook her head. 'I can't go home in this state. I think I will walk a little way first. I do not want my mother to see me like this.' More tears fell.

'Well then, will you allow me to escort you on your walk?'

Margaret looked dubious. "Mr Thornton, I would not want…I mean I cannot ask you…' Eventually seeing that John would brook no refusal she reluctantly accepted his arm.

They walked in awkward silence for a way. John was uncertain of what to say to Margaret. In fact he was uncertain whether he should say anything at all. Instead he decided to let Margaret speak when she was ready.

As her breathing calmed, and her tears dried, he felt her loosen her grip on his arm. Under the shade of a maple tree she paused. 'Mr Thornton.'

'Yes Miss Hale?'

'I need to tell you - while I have the opportunity - how ashamed and mortified I feel as a result of my behaviour towards you yesterday. I cannot account for it, indeed I have no rational explanation for it. I can only humbly request your forgiveness and state how deserving I was of your severe words.'

John could almost feel her relief. He smiled to himself. 'Apology accepted Miss Hale.'

Margaret looked up at him, her soulful eyes reaching into his heart. 'My humiliation and regret were only amplified upon my return home when I discovered what you had done for my mother.'

John maintained a straight face but Margaret continued.

'My father does not know to whom we are indebted, and it would seem that you would prefer it that way. But I must thank you for your generosity, from the bottom of my heart sir. I will be forever grateful.'

John felt both embarrassment and gratification at her words. 'It pleases me that you are willing to accept my help.'

Margaret grimaced. 'Am I so very disagreeable Mr Thornton?'

John laughed. 'No, just exceedingly proud and independent. Though neither, if well regulated, are a defect in my view.' John picked a leaf from the tree and ran it through his fingers admiring its luster. 'I visited your Mother and Father today. Your mother seems..'

'At peace with her condition,' said Margaret abstractedly.

'Yes, I suppose that is what I mean. She is comfortable?'

'Thanks to you Mr Thornton. It would have been torture for us all to watch her be burdened by pain in her final days. But with the treatment that Dr Donaldson is administering there is hope that she will not suffer at all; actually her life may even be extended on account of her pain being eased.'

'I am glad.' Wanting to change the subject, John said, 'I'm sorry about your friend, Miss Higgins.'

'Yes, I am too. She was dear to me. One of my only friends here in Milton I am afraid.' Margaret was thoughtful for a moment. She looked up at John as she comprehended the full meaning of his words. 'Miss Higgins – you know who she was then?'

'You mean that she was the daughter of a union leader? Yes I know,' said John impassively.

Margaret's face flushed. 'I appreciate that my association with Nicholas Higgins may displease you. It must be difficult for you to see him in any light other than as an instigator of the strike.' Her eyes looked up to appeal to John. 'I just wish you could know him as I do. He is a good man and a loving father. He is a hard worker – he takes immense pride in his craft. In his different way he is simply pursuing the same object as you. Respectability; a better life for those he loves. If you were to ask the other workman you would hear... '

'Hear what Miss Hale?' John said, struggling to keep the bitterness from his tone. 'That he is an impudent mischief-maker? I already know this from first hand experience.' The words were out of John's mouth before he could think better of it.

Margaret hung her head to look at the ground, her tone becoming firmer. 'I am sorry Mr Thornton. I have intruded on your business dealings enough. I will not vex you further by offering opinions you are not ready to hear. I imagine the strike is still too fresh in your mind for you to be capable of being impartial.'

John could feel his indignation rising. Why must Margaret persist in subverting him with her presumptuous judgments? Why could she not look for the good in him as she did this Higgins fellow?

Not wanting to say anything he would later regret, John remained silent but pensive.

'But if I may be so bold as to ask you for a favour Mr Thornton?' John noted the haughtiness returning to her countenance. 'Should Nicholas Higgins come to Marlborough Mill in search of work, would you please speak with him? Even if you cannot bring yourself to employ him, I would entreat you to tolerate him with equanimity and patience. Could you do that for me?'

John eyed Margaret critically, uncertain of her motive. 'Why should I do that Miss Hale? Why should I not toss the schemer into the street for all the grief he has caused me?'

Margaret shook her head as if disappointed in John. With barely concealed passion she announced, 'For I have urged him to seek you out. I have led him to believe that you of all Masters have the sense to put aside your differences, see his worth as a superior _hand_, and do what is right and good.'

John was taken aback, unable to comprehend whether her words were praise or insult. On one hand she had credited him with good sense and foresight, on the other an unwillingness to disregard his personal feelings to do what was best for the mill.

John sighed. This was not how he had imagined his next meeting with Margaret. 'I do not wish to quarrel with you Miss Hale. On the contrary I had hoped that we might begin to reconcile our differences. But perhaps we are not ready – as you say the events of late may be too fresh in our minds. You have had upsetting news today and I certainly do not wish to be the cause of further distress. Perhaps I should escort you home now?'

'No thank you Mr Thornton. I am quite capable of making it back on my own. Good day,' she said stonily.

Exasperated, John tipped his hat, bowed and watched her walk away.


	9. Chapter 9

In the days since Margaret had walked with Mr Thornton, little else had preoccupied her thoughts. And as her anger at him diminished, she began to measure her own blame in their latest disagreement.

Whilst she had no wish to amend her convictions, she now saw that she had been wrong to speak them aloud – particularly at that moment. She was deeply ashamed of the satisfaction she had felt at reproving Mr Thornton for his prejudice towards Nicholas Higgins. Though she may not agree with him, Margaret comprehended that he was entitled to feel wronged by the union and, by association, Nicholas Higgins.

He must think her conceited for believing herself qualified to judge him. And perhaps she was being conceited. She did not know why she was so disposed to arguing with Mr Thornton. She had no inclination to debate Nicholas's worthiness with Slickson or Hampson or Watson. But for some reason it was important to her that Mr Thornton should be above reproach: that he should be a man of correct and just opinions.

Margaret was confused by her own curious fixation with Mr Thornton. The rest of the world seemed to have faded into insignificance by comparison. Margaret felt guilty that her mother - and even poor Bessy - did not seem to merit her notice when Mr Thornton could be contemplated.

Margaret also felt a sadness and regret that she had been the cause of a disconnect between her family and Mr Thornton. He had not been to the house since that day, nor made contact except for a hurried note to say_ that he was so much engaged and that he could not come to read with Mr Hale _as planned_. _Her father_ was depressed and sad at this partial cessation of an intercourse which had become dear to him; and he would sit pondering over the reason that could have occasioned this change._

Margaret had almost determined to go to Marlborough Mill but she was not certain that Mr Thornton would be of a mind to accept another of her apologies so soon.

_But when should she see him? Her heart leaped up in apprehension at every ring of the door-bell; and yet when it fell down to calmness, she felt …sick at heart at each disappointment. _

On one such occasion the door-bell heralded a visit from Nicholas Higgins. Standing on the step, _he had 'slicked' his hair down with the fresh water; he had adjusted his neck-handkerchief, and borrowed an odd candle-end to polish his clogs. _Margaret heard him ask for her_ with a strong Darkshire accent._

After insisting he remove his boots, Dixon ushered Higgins into the sitting room. Margaret observed that he looked more uncomfortable than she had ever seen him. He stood before her, shifting between his grubby feet. He clearly had news that he was impatient to tell.

'Nicholas sit down, please. Would you like some tea?'

Nicholas laughed nervously. 'No Miss, I don't expect a fine lady like yourself to serve me tea. No, I came to give you this.' In his hand was the old black bible that Margaret had read from; its cover worn and tired from being cradled in poor Bessy's cold fingers as she lay on her deathbed.

Margaret found it hard to swallow, the emotion of the gift fairly overwhelming her. She smiled at Nicholas, her expression speaking the words that she currently could not find.

'She loved you Miss. I thought you might want something of hers to remember her by.'

Margaret walked forward two paces and embraced the surly man, kissing his cheek. Nicholas blushed and pushed his hands into his pockets to busy them.

'Thank you, Nicholas. As much as I will treasure this, I can assure you that I do not need it to remember Bessy. She was a good friend to me, I will not forget her easily.' Margaret ran her fingers over the volume and thought of the day she read from Revelations. The day she had been to Marlborough Mill.

'But it is not just this that brings me here today Miss. I had a visitor this morning.' Nicholas almost seemed triumphant. 'You will not believe who, even when you hear it with your own ears.'

Margaret smiled at the animation on Nicholas's face.

'Mr Thornton. Mr Thornton of all the men showed himself at the door of Nicholas Higgins!'

Margaret almost felt faint. 'What did he want Nicholas?' she asked anxiously.

'To offer me work. Can you imagine that Miss?'

Margaret sat back down on the settee. 'I must say I am shocked Nicholas. But what did he say to you? Did he tell you why he came in search of you?'

'No, Miss. But I thought it strange though, for I remember that you told me to go and see Thornton. The day in the street just before Bessy passed. But with all that happened…' Nicholas stopped short to contain his grief.

'And was he civil?' asked Margaret.

Wiping his eyes quickly, Nicholas smirked. 'He was not uncivil. He told me straight that I was to come _sharp to my time, and that he would have no laggards at his mill_.' Nicholas looked more serious. 'He gave me fair warning that if he was to catch me making mischief – as he called it – he would send me on my way.'

Margaret wanted to know all that he said but concealed her eagerness. 'And you have accepted the work?'

'I could not refuse it Miss. No-one else will hire me. I am surprised that Thornton will.' Nicholas grinned. 'But I gave him fair warning too. I said to him "_that when I seed yo' going wrong, and acting unfair, I'd speak to yo' in private first; and that would be a fair warning. If yo' and I did na agree in our opinion o' your conduct, yo' might turn me off at an hour's notice_.

'Upon my word Nicholas..' gasped Margaret, 'that was bold of you.'

'Ay Miss, but don't be alarmed by my impertinence. I promised him that I am a steady man that will work hard and always be honest. And when you think about it,' Nicholas chortled, '_it is not possible that we could think worse of each other_ is it? Our association can only improve from here, don't you agree Miss Margaret?'

Margaret gave an uneasy laugh. 'Yes, I suppose you are right Nicholas. I suppose you are right.'

* * *

The news from Nicholas gave Margaret hope that Crampton would soon receive a visit from the Master of Marlborough Mill. However the anticipation of such an event ate away at Margaret's forbearance. She tried her best to occupy her time with the care of her mother: Margaret would often read to her or tend to her small needs. Dixon was quite bemused at how proficient Margaret became in starching and pressing and how energetically she applied herself to the daily chores.

Her lot as a woman sometimes frustrated Margaret. Men had business or occupations to toil away their time. Women were bound to their homes in solitude and confinement, with little to do but entertain their worries and concerns when troubled.

Even now as Margaret sat by the fire re-reading one of her favourite volumes, she seemed unable to focus; her thoughts too preoccupied with the loss of loved ones, of friends, of…

'Chew on your lip any harder Miss Margaret and you will do yourself injury. You don't want your smile to be lopsided now, do you?' Dixon had wandered in to take away the tea tray and tidy the sitting room.

'Leave that Dixon, I will take it to the kitchen.' Margaret noted that Dixon appeared agitated.

'No I will Miss. I want to make sure that the room is spic and span before our dinner guest arrives.'

Margaret was puzzled by this announcement. She knew of no prior engagements. 'Dinner guest?'

'Why your father would invite his friends to dinner when his wife is as sick as can be is beyond me. Seems right inconsiderate of all of us…'

'Dixon,' Margaret said more sternly to get the servant's attention, 'who is coming to dinner?'

'That Mr Thornton.' Dixon sniffed. 'We barely have enough groceries to feed the four of us let alone a great lumbering man like 'im. Suppose I will have to get out the best China.'

Margaret felt her heart race erratically in her chest. Glancing at herself in the mirror in the China cabinet she observed how unruly she looked from the day's work.

Dixon noticed it too. 'And you had better carry yourself off upstairs and fix yourself for dinner. A respectable young lady, a Beresford lady would never be seen in her day clothes at dinner.' Dixon frowned as she fluffed pillows and straightened books. 'Even for a dinner with a tradesman.'

Margaret bristled at the older lady's reference. 'Mr Thornton is a highly respected businessman in this town Dixon. And he has been very good to us. Please ensure you remember that in your treatment of him.' Margaret sounded harsher than she meant to.

'You have had a change of heart Miss. I thought you did not like him?' Dixon studied Margaret.

Margaret was flustered by this line of questioning. 'It does not matter how I feel. He is father's friend, and…and…he has been very good to us..'

'Yes, you said that already Miss.' Dixon smirked.

Margaret decided to change the subject. 'Will Mamma be taking her dinner in her room then this evening?'

'I imagine so.'

Margaret chewed her lip again. 'She has been asleep for much of the day today, Dixon. That cannot be a good sign, I think.'

'Don't you fret Miss. After I have served dinner I will see to your mother. If you are needed I will be sure to let you know. And besides, you know she is always drowsy after Dr Donaldson has been.'

Margaret nodded unconvinced. 'I will check on her presently.'

'Miss Margaret, before you go,' Dixon looked uncomfortable, 'have you heard from Master Frederick yet?'

Margaret was taken back. 'How did you..?'

'The mistress speaks of it. You know, I think that is why she is still with us. She wants to see him again, one last time. I think she is holding out in the hope he will come.'

Margaret felt ill at the thought of Frederick risking his life to see his dying mother. 'No I haven't Dixon. I'm not even sure if my letter will have reached him yet. It is not three weeks since I sent it.'

Dixon looked at Margaret sympathetically. 'Go get ready Miss. I need to see to the soup.' Before leaving the room, Dixon forced a straight face and said, 'your pink gown would do well tonight I think.'

Margaret guiltily felt her heart skip a beat.


	10. Chapter 10

John took the stairs to his room two at a time, his long muscular limbs making short work of the climb. After selecting fresh clothes, he splashed water on his face and examined his whiskers in the mirror. He decided not to shave at this late hour. He had hoped to finish earlier at the Mill; a problem with the machinery had waylaid him.

As he dressed, John reflected on his day. After a frustrating and unfruitful meeting with his banker, he had run into Mr Hale on the street - completely by chance. The older man had seemed anxious; which made John feel remorseful. It was only natural that his tutor should wonder at his sudden withdrawal. John, in his attempts to put the older man at ease, accepted a dinner invitation for this evening. But now as he readied himself he questioned whether he should go after all.

He yearned to see Margaret again; almost to the point of feeling physical pain at the deprivation of not seeing her. But after their last quarrel he had begun to wonder if he should not take his mother's advice and abandon his hopes of ever winning her. It did not seem that they could even be in each other's company without passionately disagreeing about one thing or another. And yet there was still so much that he admired about her. Qualities that, if he was honest, he greatly desired in a woman. Her wit, intelligence, compassion, independence, beauty and grace made her seem like female perfection itself.

John shook his head as he buttoned his freshly starched shirt. He had wasted more time than he cared to think about debating this in his head. On a number of occasions in the last week he had been sorely tempted to walk to Crampton. But the recollection of her harsh condemnation of him at their last meeting kept him from doing so. He did not know how many more times he could bear to have his spirits crushed by Margaret's censure and scorn.

But his present state of anticipation at seeing her told him he would not be rid of his feelings for her easily. He wondered how she would receive him, whether she knew that he had taken Higgins on at the mill.

Very few people in life surprised him, but Nicholas Higgins was definitely one of them. When other workers – and disappointingly his own foreman – had ignored the problem with the weave this afternoon, Nicholas had defied orders to keep working and marched to John's office to demand he look at the machine. His action had saved John a day's wages in clothe that would otherwise have needed to be destroyed. Higgins had also offered to stay back to finish the order – without payment.

John found him difficult to fathom. He was unlike most workers; he genuinely seemed to care about his trade and the people he worked with. There were few others that could match the quality of his craftwork. And he toiled away for longer hours than were required of him.

Indeed it was Higgins's reputation that impressed John the most when he started to make enquiries about the man two weeks ago. Whilst his leadership in the union had made him a persona non grata to mill owners in Milton, no one could speak ill of his work.

It was this that had motivated John to offer him work. Orders were still flowing in, but Marlborough Mill was desperately behind. Problems with machinery regularly went unchecked and wastage was high. John needed skilled men like Higgins – now more than ever – to ensure that capacity could be maintained and re-work avoided to contain costs.

John conceded that part of his reluctance to see Margaret this evening was the thought of facing her after his about-face on Higgins. She had been right about him – of course. But he could not bear it if she exulted in her triumph over him.

John straightened his frock coat and with one last glance, made his way out of his room and down the stairs. His mother was waiting for him.

'You will not be dining with us tonight then John?'

'No mother, Mr Hale has invited me to dinner. ' John reached for the fruit basket he had asked Cook to put together.

'That is surprising, given the state of Mrs Hale.' Mrs Thornton enquired cynically.

'Just a simple affair, Mother. A meal between friends.'

'And yet you dress up for them John. You look…' Mrs Thornton stood close to her son and sniffed him, 'and smell good enough to be attending a ball.' She reached up to straighten his cravat. 'Miss Hale has nothing to do with this I hope?'

'I shall be home directly, Mother. Do not wait up though.' John kissed her cheek before walking out the door.

John braced himself for the cold and walked briskly. He waved as he saw Higgins and two of the other men leaving the mill having finished off the large order they had been working on. He would need to find a way to reward them for their extra efforts.

As John reached the tiny house in an inauspicious part of town, he had to balance the basket of fruit on his knee to knock on the door. Expecting the servant – Dixon – to answer, he was surprised when Margaret appeared.

His heart betrayed him in his chest. She was a picture of loveliness in her pink muslin. Her hair was pulled up in a chignon, her complexion cream against the pastel fabric. She mesmerized him – he wondered if she knew that? Just the site of her rendered him dumb.

Her eyes twinkled and betrayed the slightest smile. Not a smile of self-righteousness or self-satisfaction as he had feared, but a private smile, like it was meant only for him. One glimpse at her and he was possessed. Any immunity he thought he had built up to her charms were washed away by the promise in those eyes.

'Mr Thornton, may I take that from you?'

John felt himself staring at her and realized that Margaret was eying the basket in his hands. 'Good evening Miss Hale. It is rather heavy, I brought it for your mother.' Stepping inside the door he came close enough to inhale her heady scent of linen and lavender. His senses were reeling. 'Perhaps I can put it in the kitchen for Dixon to plate?'

Margaret smiled at him again. John marveled at how breathtaking she was right at that moment.

'Of course sir, come this way.'

Margaret walked ahead of him. John could not help but admire her tiny waist and elegant neck as he strolled behind. Tiny whispers of curls were escaping her carefully coiffed hair and caressing the tiny clasp of her necklace. There were pearl buttons down her back and John wondered how she managed to undo them…

'Just put it down here Mr Thornton.'

He obeyed, placing the basket on a small wooden table. He could feel the heat of the fire in the small room. The aroma of a hearty broth made him realize it had been some hours since he had last eaten.

'That really is very thoughtful of you Mr Thornton – to bring my mother such tasty treats. I know that she is touched by your kindness.' Margaret looked down, a small blush touching her cheeks.

John was now leaning against the doorframe, his full height taller than it. 'How is your Mother, Miss Hale?'

'Unchanged since the last time we spoke, Mr Thornton,' Margaret's blush deepened at her words, 'she spends more time in her bed now I fear.'

'And how are you Miss Hale?'

Margaret's head looked up, surprised by his question. 'Me? I am quite well Mr Thornton.' She nodded nervously but did not elaborate.

John watched her face a little longer, bemused by her expression. She seemed to be debating her thoughts. If only he knew what they were..

'Mr Thornton, I want to thank you for accepting my father's invitation to dinner this evening.' Her face was earnest. 'He has missed your visits.' Margaret chewed her lip before proceeding. 'I fear I am to blame for your reluctance to come.'

'Miss Hale..'

'Please, Mr Thornton, there cannot be any other explanation. I must accept my culpability. If I had not been so unforgivably arrogant and presumptuous of late, I am certain that we would have enjoyed your company at Crampton more often.'

John appreciated her humility but it reminded him that he was still vulnerable to her righteous outbursts.

Margaret continued, her tone beseeching. 'Please I beg you not to allow our differences of opinion to stand in the way of your friendship with Papa. It means a great deal to him to have you here…to all of us.' Margaret's voice faltered and she swallowed quickly. 'I promise I will work harder to hold my tongue, if you will just..well..if you will please continue to visit Crampton.'

John did not know whether it was the heat in the small room affecting him, or the way the glow of the firelight made the tears that pricked her eyes shimmer. Without realizing it he took a step closer to Margaret. She did not waver, so he moved closer still. Their eyes transfixed, John leaned forward and whispered, 'Margaret,..

'Good evening Mr Thornton.' The portly lady walked through the doorway squeezing through the space between John and Margaret. 'Miss Margaret, your father is waiting in the sitting room for Mr Thornton. Perhaps you should show him through.'

Surprised out of the dreamlike moment, John stepped back, hitting his head against the top of the doorframe. Margaret stifled a giggle.

'Thank you Dixon.' Turning to John, Margaret's eyes held a little of that earlier twinkle. 'Come Mr Thornton, I will take you to my father.'


	11. Chapter 11

**I just want to acknowledge that in the latter part of this chapter I borrow text directly from Gaskell where I saw no need to rewrite a part of the story that we are all so familiar with. I have of course italicised it to make it distinct from my own work.**

* * *

'Margaret tells me that you have employed Nicholas Higgins. I must say that I was somewhat surprised and heartened to hear it John.' Mr Hale was clearly at his leisure this evening. _It was curious how the presence of Mr. Thornton had power over Mr. Hale to make him unlock the secret thoughts which he kept shut up even from Margaret._ She noted how lively he was in the younger man's presence.

John nodded and glanced across at Margaret. She met his eyes momentarily but just as quickly looked away. She did not want him to see how eager she was to hear how he would respond to her father. But John remained silent.

Mr Hale continued. 'Ephesians tells us _let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. _' Looking with admiration at his pupil he added, 'Yes it was very Christian of you, John.'

John shook his head. 'I'm afraid I do not warrant your praise for I had quite different motives for employing Higgins.' Again John looked at Margaret, a small smile playing at his lips. Margaret blushed. 'I must confess that it was not Christian generosity that drove my actions. Rather it was good business sense.'

'How so?' asked Mr Hale with interest.

'The mill sorely needs skilled labor since the strike. We have many orders still waiting to be filled. And in fact, it was Miss Hale that suggested I consider Higgins.'

'Really?' Mr Hale looked at his beautiful daughter with affection.

'Although,' John's tone was playful, 'I will not let you take all of the credit Miss Hale.' 'Your words merely provoked my enquiries. It was Higgins' reputation as an excellent tradesman that convinced me of the virtue of taking him on.'

Margaret felt emboldened by his saucy words and responded in kind. 'Indeed I have heard he is uncommonly skilled and hard working. Pray tell us Mr Thornton whether he has proven his worth in the short time he has been at Marlborough Mill? Is he not all that your were led to believe?'

Margaret watched as John regarded her. Fearful that her attempt at wit appeared supercilious, she rallied and humbly added, 'It's just..I mean I hope,… I trust that he has been industrious and shown you gratitude.'

Raising his eyebrows John mused, 'I think he is as he always has been Miss Hale. Your Higgins is certainly not bashful. He has no scruple in declaring the deficiencies in our methods and as a consequence has not gained favour with the Foremen.' John paused and Margaret became uneasy. 'But there is no finer weaver, nor anyone more attentive to precision. He is the first of the workers to arrive at the mill and the last to leave. For that I would gladly accept any of his other deficiencies.'

Margaret let out the breath she realised she had been holding.

'In fact Miss Hale, I must urge you to find me more rapscallion union leaders like Higgins. I am sure with ten such men I could happily relieve fifty others from their stations.'

Margaret laughed, glad that they seemed to have overcome their differences. She even contented herself that she and Mr Thornton appeared to be on more congenial terms than ever before. Perhaps her father's passage from Ephesians was an auspicious message to them. _Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another…_

Mr Hale sat across from Margaret grinning. 'Thank you for joining us this evening John. Your company has been quite diverting, don't you think Margaret?

Margaret reached across and squeezed her father's hand. 'Yes it has Papa. We must ask Mr Thornton to come more often.' When Margaret turned to look at him, John's eyes were fixed on her. His expression profound. She prayed he understood that she was earnest in extending her friendship.

Their gaze was interrupted by the intrusion of Dixon who seemed flustered. 'I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner sir, may I speak with you a moment?'

'Is it important Dixon?' asked Mr Hale with a small amount of agitation.

'It concerns the mistress sir.' Margaret understood that the relationship between Dixon and her father had never been easy; Dixon clearly felt that Mrs Hale married beneath her rank; but the recent events had place further strain on their cordiality towards each other.

'Will you excuse me John? Margaret will you fetch us a fresh pot of tea? I shan't be long.'

'Of course Papa.'

Margaret stood to make her way to the kitchen. As she did she was surprised to find Mr Thornton on his feet and following her through the hall.

After a time of just standing watching her prepare the china, John finally spoke. 'Margaret, I don't mean to sound impudent, and I understand if you do not wish to discuss it if it pains you, but how long….'

Margaret thrilled to hear him speak her first name. She did not correct him. 'It is difficult to say. Mamma is sleeping much more than she was. I fear the end is quite near.' She turned then towards the fire afraid she may begin to weep in front of him. Though she knew her mother's death was inevitable, a part of her still hoped for a miracle.

As she reached for the kettle, John came nearer. 'Here, let me,' he said gently.

As Margaret relinquished the kettle to him their hands touched briefly. Once again his proximity and the scent of him affected her, and she was close to overcome by her physical reaction to him. It was like nothing she had experienced before. Breathlessly she whispered thank you and tried to still her trembling hands by holding onto a chair.

John poured the boiling water into the pot and replaced the kettle on the fire. 'Allow me to carry the tray for you.'

A grateful smile was all she could muster. She was entranced by this version of John. The openness in his expression. The kindness in his tone.

Back in the dining room, John placed the tray on the table. Standing back he eyed the door before clearing his throat. 'Margaret, while your father is out of the room, I was wanting to ask you something.'

The seriousness of John's tenor made Margaret's heart flutter.

'I was wondering, and please understand that you are under no obligation, well I was hoping that you might consider walking with me? On Sunday. After church.'

Margaret did her best to maintain her composure and contain the unexpected delight that bubbled below the surface of her calm demeanor.

Mr Hale re-entered the dining room before she could respond. He was pale and his features were marked with grave concern. 'John, I'm afraid I will need to cut our evening short.' He turned then to take Margaret's hand. 'Dixon has asked me to fetch Dr Donaldson. Mrs Hale seems to be having some difficulty breathing.'

Margaret held tight to her father and looked to John for his counsel.

'Sir, let me take a short detour and secure Dr Donaldson for you. I need to be leaving now anyway.' John looked reassuringly at Margaret. 'Return to your wife sir. That is where you are needed now.'

'Thank you John. I confess I am loath to go. Margaret, would you see John out please?'

'Of course Papa.'

Margaret followed John to the door. John hurriedly put on his gloves.

'Thank you for coming, John. ' Margaret stammered his name. 'I feel as if we have enacted this scene before.' She half smiled. In devotion to her mother she was eager for him to be off on his errand, but in faithfulness to her own feelings she was equally reluctant to see him leave. 'Perhaps I shall see you Sunday?'

John tipped his hat with a bashful look before dashing down the steps. Margaret could still hear his footsteps running as she closed the door.

* * *

It was not yet dawn when Margaret was woken by a banging noise. As she roused herself to consciousness she realized it was knocking on the front door.

Quickly donning a housecoat and wrap, she made her way downstairs through the dark house. There she met Dixon preparing to give way to her anger at the unsuspecting person behind the door for disturbing the peace at this uncivilised hour.

Margaret could not see who the visitor was as the door was opened. She remained standing behind Dixon.

_Is this Mr. Hale's?' said he, in a clear, full, delicate voice._

_Margaret trembled all over; at first she did not answer. In a moment she sighed out,_

_'Frederick!' and stretched out both her hands to catch his, and draw him in._

_'Oh, Margaret!' said he, holding her off by her shoulders, after they had kissed each other, as if even in that darkness he could see her face, and read in its expression a quicker answer to his question than words could give,—_

_'My mother! is she alive?'_

_'Yes, she is alive, dear, dear brother! She—as ill as she can be she is; but alive! She is alive!'_

_'Thank God!' said he. 'Papa is utterly prostrate with this great grief.' 'You expect me, don't you?' 'No, we have had no letter.' 'Then I have come before it. But my mother knows I am coming?' 'Oh! we all knew you would come. But wait a little! Step in here._

_…._ _And so it was that the weight, this sorrowful time, was lightened to Margaret. …. For a few hours, the mother rallied on seeing her son. She sate with his hand in hers; she would not part with it even while she slept; and Margaret had to feed him like a baby, rather than that he should disturb her mother by removing a finger. Mrs. Hale wakened while they were thus engaged; she slowly moved her head round on the pillow, and smiled at her children, as she understood what they were doing, and why it was done. 'I am very selfish,' said she; 'but it will not be for long._

Margaret later explained to Frederick that _this state of tranquillity could not endure for many days, nor perhaps for many hours. _How Dr Donaldson had been called last night and assured them there was no more to be done other than to be grateful for the gift of time left and to pray for the freedom of her spirit as it returned home.

_'I don't believe it,' he exclaimed. 'She is very ill; she may be dangerously ill, and in immediate danger, too; but I can't imagine that she could be as she is, if she were on the point of death. Margaret! she should have some other advice—some London doctor. Have you never thought of that?'_

_'Yes,' said Margaret, 'more than once. But I don't believe it would do any good. And, you know, we have not the money to bring any great London surgeon down, and I am sure Dr. Donaldson is only second in skill to the very best,—if, indeed, he is to them.'_

_Before the night of that day, Dr. Donaldson's opinion was proved to be too well founded. Convulsions came on; and when they ceased, Mrs. Hale was unconscious. Her husband might lie by her shaking the bed with his sobs; her son's strong arms might lift her tenderly up into a comfortable position; her daughter's hands might bathe her face; but she knew them not. She would never recognise them again, till they met in Heaven._

_Before the morning came all was over._


	12. Chapter 12

'Frederick, I am so glad you are here.' Margaret as Frederick comforted her in the sitting room. Their father was still with Mrs Hale, unable yet to leave her.

'Margaret, I must travel on tonight's train.'

Margaret looked up at Frederick in confusion. 'Why? Surely it is safe for you to stay a day or two more. No one can possibly know you are here.'

Frederick sighed and rubbed his forehead 'I did not tell you before, but there was trouble when I arrived.'

'Trouble? What trouble? What do you mean Frederick?' Margaret's pulse raced in panic.

'A man by the name of Leonards.' Frederick cursed, 'If only I had known he was here.'

'Frederick, you are not making any sense,' Margaret urged.

'Leonards was a sailor assigned to me, although.._a worse sailor was never on board ship—nor a much worse man either. I declare, Margaret—you know the circumstances of the whole affair?'_

'Yes, mamma told me.'

'He was at the train station the night I arrived. He was drunk and making very little sense. He alerted a guard and they detained me while they tried to ascertain what he knew about me.'

'Frederick!'

'Calm yourself sister. As I said, he was rather drunk. All they managed to get was that Leonards believed I was Lieutenant Hale and I was wanted by the Navy.'

'What happened Fred?'

'The police questioned me, but I had papers – not authentic of course - stating I am Frederick Dickensen.' Frederick looked puzzled. 'But the Sargent must have been suspicious for he summoned a Magistrate.'

Margaret had a sinking feeling that she was not going to like what she was about to hear. 'A Magistrate? What did he say Frederick?'

'He questioned me; asked me why I came to Milton. But I maintained my story- that I had come to seek work.'

'But what about the man? What did you say his name was? Leonards?'

Frederick sniggered cynically. 'The silly fool fell and died before he could sober up enough to give them more information.'

Margaret grimaced.

'Do not waste your regret or pity on a worthless firebrand like Leonards, Margaret. The world is a better place without his type.'

'So the Magistrate believed you? You were released?'

'Yes..and no. Without Leonards to verify his drunken story, they really had nothing to hold me on. But that particular Magistrate was no fool He had heard enough to make him wary of me. He warned me that if I did not leave Milton within two days he would seize me and take me to Naval authorities in London himself.'

Margaret was beginning to feel ill. 'Frederick, did the Magistrate tell you his name?'

Frederick thought for a moment, trying to recall. 'He was a tall, powerful fellow. Stern in features….Thornley? Thornhill ?

'Mr Thornton?' prompted Margaret, dreading his response.

'That's the fellow. He did not seem to me the type of man I should dare trifle with. I have decided I should heed his warning.'

Margaret paled.

'Margaret, what is the matter?'

'Fred, we know this Magistrate. He is one of Papa's pupils.'

Frederick considered this a moment. 'Then..oh dear.. do you suspect he made the connection?'

Margaret nodded solemnly. 'I cannot say for sure Frederick, but yes it is possible.'

'Are you on good terms with this Thornton?'

'Yes we are. Papa likes him very much; and he is highly respected in town.'

Frederick got up to pace the room. In silence he thought it through. When resolved he sat back down again and took Margaret by the hands. 'Margaret, you cannot speak to Mr Thornton of this.' Frederick's tone was insistent. 'You cannot tell him the truth. We must be cautious whilst I am still in the country. We must not trust anyone. Especially a Magistrate.'

'But..'

'Margaret, don't you see? If this Thornton is as good a man as you say he is he may feel compelled to fulfill his responsibilities to the crown and turn me in. And you and Papa will both be implicated in protecting a wanted criminal. No I will not let that be. You simply must not tell him about me. If he asks you, you must deny you have a brother, or that our father has a son.'

Margaret looked forlorn. 'Oh Frederick, I wish it wasn't so.'

'Don't worry so, sister. Just let me enjoy my last hours with you and Papa and I will be gone. It will be like I was never here at all.'

Her brother made it sound so simple, Margaret thought. Poor Frederick. He had no idea of the significance of what he had just asked of her.

* * *

Good to his word, Frederick left that evening, only explaining to his father that he had been detained by the police and did not risk lingering in the town for long. Mr Hale had been easily persuaded, and neither Margaret nor Frederick thought that they should burden him further with the unhappy truth of Fred meeting with Mr Thornton.

In her heart, Margaret did not believe that Mr Thornton would raise the subject with his tutor – at least not so soon after Mrs Hale's death. Margaret agreed that she should wait until he was stronger to tell her father.

In the days following, Margaret busied herself by writing the invitations for her mother's funeral. With so few friends in town, the guest list was not long. Dressed in her black crepe; that she had purchased for such occasions; she dwelt at home with her father with only Dixon for company.

Dixon was relentless. She threw herself into the task of readying the mistress, dressing her in a white cashmere robe and cap as was fashionable for the dead. Margaret was grateful to her. She did not have the heart to do it herself.

Mr Hale was inconsolable, choosing to spend much of the day in his wife's room, still holding her stony cold hands. Margaret did her best to encourage him to get some air, but he would not budge.

She was disappointed that they did not receive any visitors during this time. The Thorntons sent a card confirming that they would attend the funeral but did not come to Crampton. John also sent a personal, but brief note to Margaret in his own hand.

**Miss Hale,**

**Be assured we are deeply saddened by your family's loss. **

**I comprehend that the circumstances are such that will prevent you from walking on Sunday. **

**John Thornton**

Margaret felt despondent. But Mr Thornton was perfectly correct in his judgments. Of course it would be improper for her to be seen in public on the arm of an eligible gentleman so soon after her mother's passing.

However this further proof of his reluctance to come to Crampton fuelled Margaret's fears that Mr Thornton suspected that the man who had identified himself as Frederick Dickensen was indeed related to the Hales of Milton.

Had he distanced himself in case he should compromise his own reputation? Did he fear any association with a family with questionable connections was not worth risking his standing as a magistrate?

Margaret was hesitant to think so. But what other explanation could there be for his not coming to see his dear friend…and his friend's daughter.

* * *

On the day of the funeral _Margaret summoned up all her forces to her aid. _ Her father was afflicted with grief and_..absorbed in one idea—that the last visible token of the presence of his wife was to be carried away from him, and hidden from his sight. He trembled pitifully as the undertaker's man was arranging his crape draperies around him. He looked wistfully at Margaret; and, when released, he tottered towards her, murmuring, 'Pray for me, Margaret. I have no strength left in me. I cannot pray. I give her up because I must. I try to bear it: indeed I do. I know it is God's will. But I cannot see why she died. Pray for me, Margaret, that I may have faith to pray. It is a great strait, my child.'_

_Margaret sat by him in the coach_ _almost supporting him in her arms; and repeating all the noble verses of holy comfort, or texts expressive of faithful resignation, that she could remember. Her voice never faltered; and she herself gained strength by doing this. Her father's lips moved after her, repeating the well-known texts as her words suggested them; it was terrible to see the patient struggling effort to obtain the resignation which he had not strength to take into his heart as a part of himself._

_Margaret's fortitude nearly gave way as Dixon, with a slight motion of her hand, directed her notice to Nicholas Higgins and his daughter, standing a little aloof, but deeply attentive to the ceremonial. Nicholas wore his usual fustian clothes, but had a bit of black stuff sewn round his hat—a mark of mourning which he had never shown to his daughter Bessy's memory. But Mr. Hale saw nothing. He went on repeating to himself, mechanically as it were, all the funeral service as it was read by the officiating clergyman; he sighed twice or thrice when all was ended; and then, putting his hand on Margaret's arm, he mutely entreated to be led away, as if he were blind, and she his faithful guide._

Once outside the church, as the small crowd dispersed, Margaret left her father momentarily to go speak with Nicholas and Mary. As she accepted their condolences she spied Mr Thornton walk over to her father.

She watched their interaction nervously looking for any sign that Mr Thornton would choose that moment to continue his inquiries.

Margaret was reassured to observe that the exchange between her father and Mr Thornton was brief but convivial. There was every appearance of compassion and consolation in Mr Thornton's manner.

Embracing both Nicholas and Mary and promising to visit them soon, Margaret returned to her father. As she approached, Mr Thornton bowed and courteously offered his deepest sympathy and said that his mother and sister will include them in their prayers. With little more to say, he wished them both good day and headed towards the mill.

Margaret felt injured. Mr Thornton had been all politeness; but gone was the familiarity and ease that they had shared only a few nights ago. His manner had been formal and aloof.

Feeling decidedly more wretched than at any other point in her life, Margaret slowly walked her father home.


	13. Chapter 13

It was the day after the funeral that Margaret eventually felt the pain. As she laid three plates at the dinner table a dawning realisation hit her. Her mother was gone. Never to return.

Margaret slumped to the floor, uncertain by the way she was feeling if she would ever be able to get up again. The tears began to flow and would not abate. Her life without her beloved Mamma suddenly hung heavy in front of her. Never again would she hear her mother hum as she did her needlework. Or frown on Margaret for her outspokenness and 'modern' thinking. Nor would her mother be there to dress her on her wedding day or hold her grandchildren.

It was like the night they left her as a child to live with Aunt Shaw in Harley Street all over again. How she had cried bitterly, taken from the comfort of motherly and unconditional affection. Except there would be no summer in Helstone to look forward to. No joyous reunion in which Margaret could run into her mother's waiting arms and rest her head against her beating heart.

Margaret lay down and curled into a ball, the sobs now racking her body.

The numbness of grief had protected her during the dreadful long hours of her mother's illness. In many ways she had carried on like none of it was real, drifting between denial, hope and acceptance.

'Miss Margaret, what happened?' Dixon knelt beside the young woman. 'Oh Miss Margaret.' Helping Margaret to sit up, she pulled the young woman into her arms. 'There there now Miss. Shh. I know, I know. Shh.

Dixon rocked her as Margaret continued to cry. How long they sat like that she knew not. In time Margaret managed to pull herself up on to a chair and rest her head in her hands. 'Dixon, did she know how much I loved her?'

'Of course she did. Of course she did.' The servant lady sat down beside Margaret and held her hand.

'I don't know if she did. I have been selfish and preoccupied by my own thoughts. I should have dedicated more of my time to her Dixon. Instead I let you shoulder so much responsibility.' Margaret looked up red faced and puffy, wiping away her tears with her delicate fingers.

Dixon looked on with sympathy. 'She would want you to cherish your better memories of her. Not to dwell on the worst hours of her life. You have not failed her in any way. It is good to keep busy with other things in sad times. An idle mind is the devil's playground.' Dixon shook her head. 'This is just your grief talking.' Dixon patted Margaret's shoulders. 'These feelings will fade.'

Margaret cried again.

* * *

A few days later, Margaret decided she would pack up some of her mother's personal items. Dixon left her to it, understanding that this was an important part of Margaret saying good-bye.

Margaret handled each item like it was made of fragile glass. Touching the embroidered bodices of dresses, tracing the necklines with lace and tatted collars. Her mother's dresses she decided she would give to Mary and Mrs Boucher.

She folded the shawls neatly, putting aside the one that Margaret knew to be her Mother's favourite. She would give this to Dixon.

Mrs Hale had owned very little in the way of jewelry; a consequence of choosing a frugal life as the wife of a country parson. Margaret would keep some pieces of sentimental value for herself and make a gift of the rest to her brother's wife. Although not married yet, Frederick had spoken devotedly of a young woman in Spain. Margaret suspected it would not be long before they wed.

Finally she sorted through her mother's needlework. There were many unfinished pieces that she thought she would try to complete. Although not as gifted in this particular art as her mother had been, Margaret felt she would find comfort in the hours spent devoted to them. Knowing that she would be sharing this last pursuit with her mother…

As she was closing the door to her mother's room, Dixon blustered up the stairs. 'Miss Margaret you are wanted by that man, Mr Thornton. He is in the sitting room. '

Margaret's heart skipped a beat. She had not seen him since the funeral. Why had he come now – to see her? With each day she had begun to worry more about Fred. How she wished she knew if he had returned to Spain yet. What if Mr Thornton had news of Frederick's fate?

'Calm yourself Margaret,' she told herself. 'He is your father's friend. It is not peculiar that the man should call.'

Margaret straightened her dress and made her way down the stairs. Her hands trembled again as they opened the door. Mr Thornton was standing at the fireplace. As she entered he turned to look at her.

Margaret closed the door behind her. 'Mr Thornton. It is nice to see you.' Her calm voiced veiled the nervousness she was feeling. Her mind could not help casting back to another day he had called on her in this room.

Mr Thornton nodded. 'Miss Hale.'

Margaret sat down, gesturing to the tall gentleman that he too should take a seat. He did - across the room from her.

Feeling uncomfortable, Margaret offered him tea.

'No thank you.' Once again he spoke with a formal manner. 'I have not seen your father since the funeral. I merely came to enquire after your ..family.'

Margaret told herself to breathe. 'We are doing as well as can be expected, thank you Mr Thornton. ' She permitted herself a brief glance at him. He appeared agitated. She diverted her eyes again. 'I trust your mother and sister are well?'

'Yes. Yes, quite well. Thank you Miss Hale.' Mr Thornton stood up now and returned to his position at the fireplace. It was evident to Margaret that he had more serious things on his mind than his mother's health.

He paced to the window before turning. 'Miss Hale, I do not wish to seem insensitive to your family's loss, but I must speak with you regarding matters that have lately been brought to my attention. Matters that concern you and your father.'

Margaret felt the familiar dread wash over her but maintained her composure.

'Please understand that I only ask this out of a desire to ensure the safety and welfare of your family.'

Margaret did not meet his eyes and continued to look down as she nodded her permission.

'Miss Hale, can you tell me who it was that came to see you the morning after I dined with you?'

Margaret lifted her face and assembled all her strength. 'I'm sorry sir? I do not know what you mean?' Margaret hated this deceit. Mr Thornton deserved much better from her.

John fidgeted. 'An officer by the name of Lieutenant Hale came to Milton. He is a wanted by the navy for crimes I know not of. He was recognised by a witness who had sailed with him.'

'And you believe he is connected with my family?'

'Miss Hale…'

Margaret laughed nervously. 'The name resembles to be sure.'

John eyed her in frustration. He sighed. 'The night I dined here, you will recall I left to summon Dr Donaldson on behalf of your father. Afterwards when I returned to Marlborough Mill I was met at the gate by a police inspector. The fellow is well known to me. I _obtained for him his first situation in the police. _He was a packer in my warehouse before. Anyway, he presumed an association with your father having seen me once leaving this house. He asked that I would come and review the statements in the case. He thought that perhaps with my knowledge of your family he would be able to clear up the awkward business of disputed identity.'

John sat down again. When Margaret offered him no comment he continued. 'I interviewed the man identified as Hale myself.'

Margaret kept her eyes focused on a hole in the rug that had begun to fray with age.

'He said his name was Frederick Dickensen, and that he was in Milton to find work.'

'And you did not believe him Mr Thornton?'

'I had my reasons not to. The witness seemed pretty convinced.'

Margaret smiled disingenuously. 'I am surprised that you would take the word of a drunken sailor so faithfully Mr Thornton. I feel sorry for this Mr Dickensen.'

Mr Thornton's tone exposed his increasing irritation with her. 'It was not only that that raised doubts in me about the truth of Dickensen's story.'

'Oh?' said Margaret innocently.

'Though I wear the costume of a gentleman there are many tell tale signs that I have not been brought up in that class that would call themselves by that name. I am but a _great rough fellow, with little grace or refinement about him_. I have labored in my life and I have the callouses to prove it.' Mr Thornton got up to pace again. 'This man,' he smirked, 'was quite the reverse of myself, but no less deceitful in his appearances. He dressed in the garb of a farmhand but had the manners and education of a superior upbringing. There was no mistaking the tilt of his chin, and the demeanor of contemptuousness in which he held our _smoky northern town_.'

Margaret stood now and raised her eyes to him. 'I'm sorry Mr Thornton, but I still cannot see what this has to do with my father and I. Even if this poor man is accused of sharing our name, it does not make him connected with us?'

Mr Thornton moved closer to her and looked directly into her face. He seemed to be searching her face for the truth. 'There was one aspect which assured me I was not mistaken. I would have recognised them anywhere for I know them as well as my own.'

Margaret did not know how she could find the strength to continue this charade much longer if he continued to gaze at her as he was currently doing. His proximity was disarming.

'Once again you take me for a fool Margaret,' he whispered. His expression was unfathomable. He paused just then, before reverently saying, 'He had your eyes.'

A single tear rolled down Margaret's face and she looked away. She knew that he could no longer have any doubt as to the family's connection.

Mr Thornton stood for a time looking at her. But neither spoke. Eventually breaking his gaze he walked to the door. Before leaving the room he muttered as if to himself, 'I never said the witness was drunk.' With that he left.


	14. Chapter 14

_For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.' _

_John Greenleaf Whittier_

Margaret slept poorly that night.

She was awake at dawn's light and after dressing busied herself with household chores.

Dixon eyed her suspiciously. She had known Margaret all her life. She could tell the young Miss was upset, but dared not ask what had happened to bring about her melancholy mood. The older woman's intuition told her it was more than just the Mistress's passing.

Dixon tried to think of something to help Margaret feel better. 'I am off to the market this morning Miss.' Tilting her head to the side she spoke in a teasing tone - like Margaret was twelve rather than nearly twenty. 'Can I fetch a dainty to tempt you?

Margaret just shook her head in silence and continued on with the task at hand. Dixon decided to leave her to her thoughts.

* * *

Margaret stood in front of the looking glass in her mother's room staring at the dark circles that had formed beneath her eyes. Today she thought she looked twice her age.

As she moved away, the carpet bag containing some of her Mother's dresses caught her eye. Margaret considered it for only a second or two.

Feeling more enthusiasm than she had all day, Margaret gathered up the bag and decided she would visit the Higgins'.

* * *

As she rounded Frances Street, Margaret felt guilty that it had been so long since she had visited her friends. She realized that her last call had been the day Bessy died. Reproaching herself for her own self-centeredness she vowed to make a greater effort.

Approaching the door Margaret was surprised to hear the raucous laughter of small children. Deciding it must be coming from next door, she knocked.

Expecting to see Mary behind the door when it opened, Margaret was startled to see the rather grubby, but angelic face of a young boy.

'Hello,' said Margaret inquiringly. 'Who might you be?'

'Thomas, Miss,' he said brightly. He smiled a toothless grin, his front teeth having recently vacated his mouth. 'Are you here to see Mary?'

'Why yes I am,' said Margaret unable to help herself from returning his grin.

'Miss Margaret!' Mary appeared from behind the little boy.

Margaret embraced the girl who appeared weary from work. 'What is going on here Mary? Who are these children?'

Mary stepped out of the house telling Thomas to go back inside and mind the other children. Closing the door behind her Mary relayed the events of the past days. How John Boucher had been found in a stream and his wife had passed away only a few days later from a terrible illness. Margaret listened with a heavy heart. Those poor children were now orphans and if it weren't for the benevolence of Nicholas they would be in grave circumstances indeed.

'Father feels responsible,' said Mary thoughtfully.

'How so?' asked Margaret.

'It was the strike that drove Boucher mad. The trouble he caused at the mill. A man cannot recover his reputation after acting up like that. He died of despair'

'Still,' Margaret said shaking her head in disbelief, 'Mr Boucher made his own decisions. Nicholas is wrong if he thinks he is to blame.'

'It does not matter now anyway. It is done. The children are ours to care for. They have no one else. We are their family now.' Mary sighed in resignation then laughed halfheartedly at her own thoughts. 'Unless some rich relative that we didn't know about comes to collect them.'

Margaret could tell that Mary was trying to find humor in a very sad and difficult situation. The poor young woman was now effectively the mother of eight children with no experience of her own and only her wits to guide her.

'Oh Mary.' Margaret put her arm around Mary's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. 'Well, I guess we should not leave the children to their own devices for too long. Who knows what they might get up to inside. Tell me how I can be of help?'

* * *

Margaret left Mary before sundown, fatigued from the noise and crowded circumstance of Francis Street. _The Boucher children, left motherless orphans_, _claimed what of Margaret's care she could bestow_. She sympathised with their craving for affection. She understood their longing for their mother; yearning to be cradled in the arms of the one person who understands and loves you best.

As she walked, Margaret thought of poor Mary, burdened with eight children who were not her own. How was a young woman in those circumstances ever going to make a life of her own?

Mary's troubles, together with the bustle and commotion of the day had somehow succeeded in putting Margaret's own cares out of her mind. It felt good to be needed and responsibility for eight children certainly put life into perspective.

As she entered Crampton, taking off her hat and gloves, Margaret saw a note addressed to her on the shelf where the post usually sat waiting for her father. On closer inspection she realised it was written in a familiar hand.

'Is that you Margaret?' she heard Mr Hale say from the sitting room.

'Yes Papa.' Margaret called out, desperate to go to her room to read the note. 'I shan't be long Papa..I just need to wash up. I have been to see Mary Higgins. When I come back down I will have much to tell you.'

Margaret seized the letter, her hands visibly shaking in apprehension. Almost running upstairs, she tore it open as she headed for her room. Skipping ahead to the signature she impatiently confirmed her suspicion as to the identity of the author. Flopping on her bed she took a deep breath to steady herself enough to see the writing clearly.

**Miss Hale**

**Please do not fear that this letter contains any further enquiries about Lieutenant Hale. I believe I found out everything I wanted to know when I visited you yesterday.**

**I have found in life that ****_very few people do speak the exact truth. _**** I confess that in many instances ****_I have even given up hoping for it. _****But to suffer dishonesty from you, a person who I have at one time held in such high esteem as to be above all others, was more than even I could endure. **

**You cannot be at a loss as to what my intentions have been towards you. My previous actions have exposed the deepest yearnings of my heart. Even when you rejected me, I continued to hope that with time I could persuade you to love me. I thought you everything beautiful and superior to me. Your integrity and virtue were incomparable in my mind.**

**I have no right to resent you for not feeling more for me than you do. One cannot help whom they do or do not love. But I feel I have the right to question why I am so underserving of your trust that you should blatantly attempt to mislead me on such matters as I brought to your attention yesterday.**

**I have extended your family friendship, service and even charity. I have been patient. I have forgiven you, even when you were undeserving. I have born your criticism of me and worked to improve my character and opinions to please you. I believe I have done everything in my power to deserve your honesty and loyalty.**

**But perhaps your duplicity yesterday has revealed your true character? Perhaps you have only deceived me into believing you virtuous? Or have I deceived myself by closing my eyes to those things I do not want to see. I am uncertain.**

**But alas I can no longer close my heart to things I do not want to feel.**

**You may possibly wonder why I did not say this to you before. I am ashamed to admit that I was not master enough of my feelings to convey them with clarity. But they must be said, if only for the sake of reclaiming my own equanimity. **

**_At present, believe me, your secret is safe with me_****. It is clear you wish to protect this man – whoever he is - and are willing to sacrifice the feelings of others in your pursuit of his security, no matter how unworthy he may be. **

**Indeed, I believe I am quite disinterested in his fate. A man who will so recklessly put his relative at risk is not worthy of my favor.**

**Let me reassure you Miss Hale that from this point on****_ my own interest in you is simply that of a friend_****. Your father's friend. ****_I see now we are nothing to each other_****. I hope this letter will make clear ****_that any foolish passion on my part is entirely over_****.**

**I am most anxious to avoid any further discourse that may pain us both so you will oblige me by not visiting the Mill. In turn I will request your father comes to Marlborough Street to conduct my lessons so that I have no business at Crampton. I cannot, I suppose help it if we should meet by chance in the street.**

**I reassure you most fervently that I will not be renewing my addresses to you.**

**I wish you the best and hope you find happiness.**

**John Thornton**

Margaret was glad the letter had ended there. She could no longer see the page for the tears that blurred her vision. Blinking them away she re-read his bitter words. "I see now we are nothing to each other….any foolish passion on my part is entirely over..I will not be renewing my addresses to you."

Margaret curled up, pain coursing through her chest, her stomach churning. This was all such a disaster. What cruel twist of fate had placed both Leonards and Frederick at the station that night? And why did Mr Thornton have to be the magistrate involved? But if he hadn't, would Frederick still have walked free?

Going over it in her head she tried to see what she could have done differently or how she could have prevented the events as they transpired.

How could she possibly repair the damage that had been done to her acquaintance with Mr Thornton? Could she tell him the truth? But until she heard that Frederick had reached Spain safely she knew she could not take the chance. And even if she could, would he listen to her now anyway?

He had loved her. The magnitude of that sentiment now shrouded her in misery. Margaret's own feelings towards Mr Thornton had always confused and disturbed her. Mostly because she had never really understood them. But right now, at this moment, they seemed astonishingly clear.

She had been a fool. She had thwarted her own happy ending with pride and deception.

Margaret lay tormented, overwhelmed with sadness and regret. Her anguish lay heavy on her heart and she found it difficult to breathe.

Oh the sad, heartbreaking irony of it all! So this is what it feels like? How was one to recover from an ache so profound?

To realise you love someone at the very same moment they stop loving you was almost too much to bear.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Once again I would like to acknowledge that where my story converges with the original I have used excerpts from Gaskell's book rather than re-tell it. Gaskell's words are clearly marked in italics. Forgive me - there is a fair amount of it in this chapter but it just seemed appropriate. PJ_**

* * *

_For some days her spirits varied strangely; and her father was beginning to be anxious about her, when news arrived from one or two quarters that promised some change and variety for her. Mr. Hale received a letter from Mr. Bell, in which that gentleman volunteered a visit to them; and Mr. Hale imagined that the promised society of his old Oxford friend would give as agreeable a turn to Margaret's ideas as it did to his own. Margaret tried to take an interest in what pleased her father; but she was too languid to care about any Mr. Bell, even though he were twenty times her godfather._

_She was more roused by a letter from Edith, full of sympathy about her aunt's death; full of details about herself, her husband, and child; and at the end saying, that as the climate did not suit, the baby, and as Mrs. Shaw was talking of returning to England, she thought it probable that Captain Lennox might sell out, and that they might all go and live again in the old Harley Street house; which, however, would seem very incomplete with-out Margaret. Margaret yearned after that old house, and the placid tranquillity of that old well-ordered, monotonous life. She had found it occasionally tiresome while it lasted; but since then she had been buffeted about, and felt so exhausted by this recent struggle with herself, that she thought that even stagnation would be a rest and a refreshment._

_So she began to look towards a long visit to the Lennoxes, on their return to England, as to a point—no, not of hope—but of leisure, in which she could regain her power and command over herself. At present it seemed to her as if all subjects tended towards Mr. Thornton; as if she could not for-get him with all her endeavours…Her father had resumed their readings together, and quoted his opinions perpetually_. And when Margaret began spending much of her spare time at the Higgenses helping Mary with the children, _she would hear of him there. _

_To tell the truth,' said _Nicholas one evening_, 'he fairly bamboozles me. He's two chaps. One chap I knowed of old as were measter all o'er. T'other chap hasn't an ounce of measter's flesh about him. How them two chaps is bound up in one body, is a craddy for me to find out._

_I'll not be beat by it, though. Meanwhile he comes here pretty often; that's how I know the chap that's a man, not a measter. And I reckon he's taken aback by me pretty much as I am by him; for he sits and listens and stares, as if I were some strange beast newly caught in some of the zones. But I'm none daunted. It would take a deal to daunt me in my own house, as he sees. And I tell him some of my mind that I reckon he'd ha' been the better of hearing when he were a younger man.'_

_… 'Well! I'll not say th' advantage is all on his side, for all I take credit for improving him above a bit. Sometimes he says a rough thing or two, which is not agreeable to look at at first, but has a queer smack o' truth in it when yo' come to chew it. He'll be coming to-night.. _

'Mr Thornton is coming here tonight?' Fear coursed through Margaret that she should still be there when he arrived.

_'I reckon, about them childer's schooling. He's not satisfied wi' the make of it, and wants for t' examine 'em.'_

'The children's schooling? Why does Mr Thornton think it his concern?'

Nicholas shrugged. 'I can't make him out Miss.'

Margaret thought about Mr Thornton's apprehensions for the Boucher children as she readied herself for bed that evening. Whilst the _elder children were at humble schools_, the younger six infants were at home with Mary. Margaret feared the girl was ill equipped for her responsibilities. A kindly neighbour helped out from time to time, but the burden was yet heavy.

Mary did her best to keep the children clothed and fed on Nicholas's wages alone. But Margaret knew enough about running a household – and particularly one with eight children to provide for - to realise that the Higgenses would need Mary to work soon if they were to continue to make ends meet.

What would she do with the children then? Margaret wondered how many other young women and mothers were in similar situations to Mary. Forced to make the choice between their children starving or letting them fend for themselves on the streets while they went to work to put food on the table.

Helstone had been so different. Many of the town's folk were farmers and their work was at home. These poor city dwellers had it much harder.

Margaret mulled all this over until she fell asleep. In the morning she woke feeling inspired by an idea she had fashioned in the dawn hours.

Without hesitating and allowing time to plant the seed of doubt, Margaret put on her best coat and hat and made her way to the rectory in Milton.

* * *

Perhaps it was fortunate that only the Reverand's wife was at home the day Margaret called at the rectory. Reverand Hughes was known to be a kind man, but was very conservative and unmoving in his views. Margaret however found Mrs Hughes an intelligent and discerning woman with foresight and vision.

Mrs Hughes invited Margaret into her home and listened attentively. Margaret told her of the need in the community for a facility to care and educate younger children whilst their parents were at work. How infants of such a tender age could and should be rescued from child labour or a life on the streets. She was impassioned as she said that a school catering for infants would not only be a safe haven but could better prepare children for junior school by teaching them to be more obedient and to develop good work habits.

Now as Margaret looked back on that day – only six weeks ago – she was delighted by how much had been achieved in so short a time. Within days, Mrs Hughes had rallied women of the church, and the inaugral meeting of the Milton Infant School Ladies Committee was held. It resulted in plans to raise funds and secure resources for the facility and ideas for how it should be run.

Margaret, escorted by a well-known and formidable lady by the name of Mrs Phillips, had walked the length of New Street appealing for the philanthropic support of local businessmen. As Mrs Phillips commanded the business owner's attention, Margaret persuaded them of the merits of having workers (who were also parents) being better able to concentrate on their work - and therefore being more productive - knowing their children were safe and not making a nuisance of themselves on the street.

Within hours they had secured enough funds to open the centre for fifty children between the ages of two and seven for at least three months.

Though only operating for three weeks in the old Sunday School room as the church, demand for places continued to rise. They were charging workers a small fee but they would still need more funds to stay open past the initial three months.

They could not afford to hire a qualified teacher so Margaret spent a lot of her own time working with children and coordinating the duties of the other women hired to care for them.

Mary was the first to be engaged by Margaret. She was to work in the 'baby' class where children under 4 would be taught to speak properly, understand pictures, recite the alphabet and enjoy music. For the older children, Margaret enlisted an out of work governess to teach reading, writing and arithmetic.

The church ladies donated clothes and bedding to the school as well as food and toys. It was only early days, but the success so far gave Margaret reason to feel optimistic that their efforts could make a difference to the lives of the women in the town.

Just before the school opened, Margaret received correspondence from Frederick confirming he had reached Spain safely. She had considered for a fleeting moment whether she should go and see Mr Thornton, but decided almost as quickly that he was unlikely to be sympathetic to her appeals.

Mr Bell also arrived in Milton during this time_. Margaret had not expected much pleasure to herself from Mr. Bell's visit—she had only looked forward to it on her father's account, but when her godfather came, she at once fell into the most natural position of friendship in the world. He said she had no merit in being what she was, a girl so entirely after his own heart; it was an hereditary power which she had, to walk in and take possession of his regard; while she, in reply, gave him much credit for being so fresh and young under his Fellow's cap and gown._

_'Fresh and young in warmth and kindness, I mean. I'm afraid I must own, that I think your opinions are the oldest and mustiest I have met with this long time.'_

_'Hear this daughter of yours, Hale. Her residence in Milton has quite corrupted her. She's a democrat, a red republican, a member of the Peace Society, a socialist—'_

_'Papa, _it's only because I want the poor and their children to have a better quality of life. Or at least a chance at it.'

_'It is not every one who can sit comfortably in a set of college rooms, and let his riches grow without any exertion of his own. No doubt there is many a man here who would be thankful if his property would increase as yours has done, without his taking any trouble about it,' said Mr. Hale._

_'I don't believe they would. It's the bustle and the struggle they like. As for sitting still, and learning from the past, or shaping out the future by faithful work done in a prophetic spirit—Why! Pooh! I don't believe there's a man in Milton who knows how to sit still; and it is a great art.'_

_'Milton people, I suspect, think Oxford men don't know how to move. It would be a very good thing if they mixed a little more.'_

_'It might be good for the Miltoners. Many things might be good for them which would be very disagreeable for other people.'_

_'Are you not a Milton man yourself?' asked Margaret. 'I should have thought you would have been proud of your town.'_

_'I confess, I don't see what there is to be proud of. If you'll only come to Oxford, Margaret, I will show you a place to glory in.'_

_'Well!' said Mr. Hale, 'Mr. Thornton … is as proud of Milton as you of Oxford. You two must try and make each other a little more liberal-minded.'_

_'I don't want to be more liberal-minded, thank you,' said Mr. Bell. _'But if it pleases you both, you and Margaret can moderate our debate tomorrow evening at dinner to ensure we give each other a fair hearing.'

'Dinner!' Margaret regretted the alarm that crept into her voice.

'Why yes, my dear. Much of my day today has been occupied in negotiation with Mr Thornton, preparing the terms of a new lease for Marlborough Mill. He drove a hard bargain. Anyway, to show their appreciation for my settlement on such agreeable terms, Mrs Thornton extended an invitation for dinner at Marlborough Street. So I accepted, but only on the condition that I could bring my friend and his daughter to even up the party.'

Margaret searched for a way in which she could escape the engagement. 'Mr Bell, I hardly think it fair that you should prevail upon Mrs Thornton's hospitality on our account. It would be better that you should go alone, or if you must take a companion, just with my father.'

'My dear Margaret, I get the impression that you are trying to avoid spending time with your old Godfather. Or is it the thought of spending an unpromising evening with Mrs Thornton that deters you.'

Margaret tried to rebut but he held up his hand.

'I insist Margaret. I am a selfish creature and I am not willing to deprive myself of your loveliness purely for an evening of business. Your presence will make the evening infinitely more tolerable.' Then turning to his friend he said, 'And given my concessions in the Marlborough lease the least the Thorntons can do is provide a meal to the dearest people in the world to me.'


	16. Chapter 16

_Edith says she finds the printed calicoes in Corfu better and cheaper than in London.'_

_'Does she?' said her father. 'I think that must be one of Edith's exaggerations. Are you sure of it, Margaret?'_

_'I am sure she says so, papa.'_

_'Then I am sure of the fact,' said Mr. Bell. 'Margaret, I go so far in my idea of your truthfulness, that it shall cover your cousin's character. I don't believe a cousin of yours could exaggerate.'_

_'Is Miss Hale so remarkable for truth?' said Mr. Thornton, bitterly._

_She did not get up and leave the room, as she had done in former days, when his abruptness or his temper had annoyed her. She sat quite still, after the first momentary glance of grieved surprise, that made her eyes look like some child's who has met with an unexpected rebuff; they slowly dilated into mournful, reproachful sadness; and then they fell_..

An awkward hush came over the guests at the dinner table, taken aback as they were by the master's remark, unable to make it out. Only Margaret understood the basis for his slight.

Mrs Thornton observed her son and then broke the silence. 'Miss Hale, I believe you have earnt yourself quite a reputation of late for your charitable deeds. I met Mrs Phillips in town who described you as the champion of all destitute women and children of Milton.'

Margaret felt her colour deepen. 'Mrs Phillips was perhaps too theatric in her description. The idea for the infant's school may have been born with me, but it has been realised only by the association of a number of accomplished women, working together for a common cause. They, each of them, are deserving of being distinguished for their efforts.'

'I am sure that Mrs Phillips has not been too generous in her praise of you,' said Mr Bell affectionately. 'No doubt you are the greatest asset to the scheme. I for one would donate handsomely just for the pleasure of one of your beguiling smiles my dear.'

'Shame on you Bell,' joked his friend. 'You undermine Margaret's hard work and fortitude by saying such things.' Mr Hale squeezed his daughter's hand with pride. 'Margaret take no notice of him.'

'But in all seriousness, you are to be commended for all that you have done. There are few people that could manage to do in a year what you have done in a few short weeks. I do believe your talents know no bounds.' Mr Bell raised his drinking glass to her.

'Mr Bell,' laughed Margaret, 'it is too much, please stop.' Then seeing Mrs Thornton's severe face she composed herself. 'We would welcome more volunteers should Mrs or Miss Thornton be inclined to give of their time?'

Mrs Thornton appeared unmoved. Fanny screwed up her nose in disgust. 'Do you not worry about disease Miss Hale?'

'Disease?'

'From the children.'

Margaret stifled her amusement and went on to outline some of the measures they had taken to reduce the spread of childhood illnesses and explained that as an adult she was mostly immune to such things.

'I believe your little school has been so popular as to be almost too full to take any more children?' said Mrs Thornton.

'Yes, that is true. Unfortunately we will need to find another premises if we are to accommodate more. However, as you will no doubt comprehend Mrs Thornton, that takes money – and a good deal of it.'

'I'm sure Thornton here can contribute some funds,' interjected Mr Bell. 'No doubt some of his workers have children attending Margaret's school.'

_Margaret felt, rather than saw, that Mr. Thornton was chagrined_ so continued talking. 'We have plans for further fundraising. There are many businesses in Milton that we have still to call upon. '

* * *

After dinner at Marlborough Street, Mr Bell returned to Crampton with Margaret and her father for a late supper.

_'I never saw a fellow so spoiled by success. He can't bear a word; a jest of any kind. Everything seems to touch on the soreness of his high dignity. Formerly, he was as simple and noble as the open day; you could not offend him, because he had no vanity.'_

_'He is not vain now,' said Margaret, turning round from the table, and speaking with quiet distinctness. 'To-night he has not been like himself. Something must have annoyed him.' _

_Mr. Bell gave her one of his sharp glances from above his spectacles. She stood it quite calmly; but, after she had left the room, he suddenly asked,—_

_'Hale! did it ever strike you that Thornton and your daughter have what the French call a tendresse for each other?'_

_'Never!' said Mr. Hale, first startled and then flurried by the new idea. 'No, I am sure you are wrong. I am almost certain you are mistaken…_.

_'Well! I'm a bachelor, and have steered clear of love affairs all my life; so perhaps my opinion is not worth having. Or else I should say there were very pretty symptoms about her!'_

_'Then I am sure you are wrong,' said Mr. Hale. 'He may care for her, though she really has been almost rude to him at times. But she! —why, Margaret would never think of him, I'm sure! Such a thing has never entered her head.'_

_'Entering her heart would do. But I merely threw out a suggestion of what might be. I dare say I was wrong. And whether I was wrong or right, I'm very sleepy; so, having disturbed your night's rest (as I can see) with my untimely fancies, I'll betake myself with an easy mind to my own.'_

* * *

With the departure of their guests, John sat in his armchair in the library reflecting on the evening. _How evil he was to-night; possessed by ill-humour_.

He loosened the knot at his neck. She still affected him. Time and disappointment had not cured him of his attraction as he had hoped. He had watched her arrive from an upstairs window – a goddess in all of her bountiful and breathtaking beauty - and he had felt the power of it. The hurt. The loss. The regret.

He had been jealous and angry when he wrote to her. He wanted her trust and was desperate to be admitted to that hallowed sphere where she would love him unconditionally and without restraint as she did her family.

In his temper, he had committed his feelings to paper before he could think better of it. He had wanted to hurt her. But in doing so had only injured himself.

She greeted him cordially tonight, but did not meet his eyes. _She could not care for him, he thought, or else the passionate fervour of his wish would have forced her to raise those eyes, if but for an instant, to read the late repentance in his._

As he observed her in stolen glances throughout the evening he could detect no general air of suffering in her own cheerful disposition. It would seem his passionate condemnation of her character had produced no ill effects. Quite the contrary. From all appearances she had lately flourished.

And then, as if to punish her for her for her felicity, he had lashed out. _The moment he had done so, he could have bitten his tongue out. What was he? And why should he stab her with her shame in this way?_

John closed his eyes, cringing at his own behaviour. Hearing the rustle of petticoats, he opened his eyes again as Mrs Thornton breezed into the library. She sat in the chair across from her son. He knew what was coming.

'You know I have never been an enthusiast for Miss Hale, nor a proponent of her virtues and charms, but really John? I would have expected better from you.' Mrs Thornton shook her head. 'What has happened to bring about such a dramatic change of heart towards Miss Hale?'

John remained silent so she continued. 'You never go to Crampton any more, you take your lessons here, and you avoid all conversations relating to the Hales - and in particular Miss Hale. What has happened between you two that you should choose to insult her in front of everyone this evening?'

John looked straight ahead at his collection of Jonathan Swifts. 'It is complicated Mother.'

She sat up straight as if offended. 'Do you think me too simple?'

John half smiled and looked over at her. She would not desist until he told her everything. Exhaling loudly, he began his story. 'The night before Mrs Hale died, after I dined there…'

'Yes I recall. That was the night you did not come home until nearly dawn.'

John nodded. 'On my way home that night I was approached by a police inspector. Watson, you remember him don't you?'

John then proceeded to explain what had happened that night and how when he approached Margaret after Mrs Hale's funeral she had denied all knowledge of Lieutenant Hale.

'I knew she was lying. Even if I had not seen the man myself, I could tell she was avoiding the truth.'

Mrs Thornton considered his story for a moment. 'You took a great risk to yourself and to Fanny and me by covering up for that man John.'

He nodded.

'And I daresay that you felt that you were entitled to the truth from Miss Hale.'

John looked at his mother. 'But?'

Mrs Thornton looked sympathetically at him. 'But in her defense, if I was Miss Hale, I would not have told you the truth either.'

John looked away brooding. 'You think me unreasonable to expect her trust?'

'Think of her situation John. If this Lieutenant Hale is indeed a close relative, how could you expect her to give him up to a magistrate? She is still grieving her mother. She probably could not bear to lose another loved one.'

'Yes but where has this man been when they needed him. When they were homeless, and without work. Or when Mrs Hale became sick and Margaret …' John stopped short of finishing his sentence. 'I will tell you where he was – protecting his own interests, that's where.'

Mrs Thornton frowned. 'I understand that when it comes to the Hales, you might think of yourself as their friend - or perhaps more.' Mrs Thornton rolled her eyes. 'But to the Hales you are…well I imagine Miss Hale was just unwilling to take the chance.'

Mrs Thornton stood and walked over to John's chair to run her hand through his hair, comforting him as she did when he was a boy. 'I know if it was you in danger, I would risk eternal damnation rather than give you up.'

John rubbed his forehead in agitation.

'Miss Hale has many characteristics not to my liking John. But she is not a liar. If indeed she has not taken you into her confidence then I believe she has had her reasons.' She paused then before adding, 'I find it interesting that you have not interviewed Mr Hale about this Lieutenant? Yet he must be a party to the same deceit as his daughter?'

Mrs Thornton lent down to kiss her son.

'But perhaps it is good that you continue to keep your distance. If this man is indeed a criminal and intimately connected with the Hales, then it may be prudent for you to limit your association with them. Perhaps it is best to leave things as they are.'

Unable to hear more John stood up and walked over to the mantelpiece. 'Good night, Mother,' he said dismissively.

'Good night John.'


End file.
